


A Happy Accident: Extras

by Penthesilea1623



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: A Happy Accident drabbles, F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-07-19 11:28:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 34,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7359430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penthesilea1623/pseuds/Penthesilea1623
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been far too long since I updated A Happy Accident, my Sebastian Vael/Annie Hawke modern AU story.  I am working on that, but I thought I'd post the drabbles from prompts and such that I've put on tumblr since the last time I updated, just to tide people over and so you know I'm still thinking about these guys. </p><p>They appear in no particular order, but I'll add a note letting you know roughly when they occur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which Anders has a hangover

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place about six month before the events of "A Happy Accident"

Anders woke up feeling like death warmed over. The sun was streaming over the bed and he grabbed a pillow to cover his face. 

A pillow made of some long purple fake fur. _What the Void?_ He held it up to stare at it and then turned his head to look around.

He wasn’t in his room. He was in Annie’s attic bedroom. Ignoring his throbbing head and less than settled stomach, he pushed himself upright and sat on the edge of the bed trying desperately to piece together how he’d ended up here.

 _Tequila._ He remembered drinking shots of tequila with Annie, her favorite method of getting drunk (he suspected because of the complicated ritual it involved, salt and lime and licking and tossing back the shot before more lime, rather than any actual affinity for the stuff). 

And there’d been whiskey when they’d run out of tequila. Shots again. Annie had refused those wrinkling her nose in disgust, for once showing more sense than he. 

_Whiskey and tequila_. What in the Maker’s name had he been thinking? Just the thought made his stomach roil in protest. Bathroom. He needed to be much closer to a bathroom. 

He scrambled off of the bed and stumbled wildly when his foot hit an empty bottle which rolled lazily away to the far end of the room.

 _Red wine._ A dry smoky cabernet, as he recalled.

The memory of that, in addition to the tequila and the whiskey had him clapping his hand over his mouth, and almost lunging into the bathroom, where he spent the next ten minutes ridding himself of all three substances. 

When he was reasonably sure there was nothing left, he flushed the toilet and leaned wearily back against the tub beside it. He looked up at the sink, desperately wanting some water to rinse his mouth out, but feeling far too feeble to actually stand.

 _Pathetic._ He forced himself to his knees and moved towards the sink and then saw something.

Resting on the edge was a glass containing a toothbrush, toothpaste and a bottle of aspirin. There was a florescent pink post-it note stuck on it.

It had to be from Annie. Resting his elbows on the sink he peeled off the note and read it.

_Step One in poorly considered alcoholic consumption recovery process: Apply toothpaste to brush and brush teeth. Rinse mouth and take two aspirin. Drink at least two glasses of water with said aspirin and return to bed in next room._

And then at the bottom of the slip of paper:

_The toothbrush is new – I didn’t think you’d be up to battling the packaging._

Only Annie would have taken that into consideration.

He did as the note instructed and then staggered gratefully back to her bed. It was far easier to collapse there than have to negotiate the steep attic stairs down to his own room. He glanced at the clock and noticed her laptop was in front of it and another post-it note, orange this time, was stuck to the screen.

_Step Two: memory reclamation process. Remove note and press play._

_Fuck._ He stared at the note. _Fuck._ Dear Maker, please don’t let that mean what he thought it did. 

He slowly peeled off the note and clicked play.

The picture was obscured by someone standing in front of the lens, but the audio was working just fine.

“Stop fiddling with the fucking camera. I’m imparting my fucking wisdom. Come back here and pay attention. Profit from my mistakes.” 

_Fuck._ It meant exactly what he thought it did.

“I’m recording your wisdom for posterity so all mankind can profit.” He could hear the smile in Annie’s voice even before she stepped back from the lens and disappeared behind the camera this time revealing him, sprawled on one of her beanbag chairs. “We need more light.” She announced, and moved out of the way, giving him his first clear glimpse of himself.

 _Fuck_ , he thought again looking at the screen. Sprawled had been the right word. His legs seemed ridiculously long and thin and bent at strange angles out in front of him. His hair was undone and half falling in his face, and he had a death grip on the wine bottle that he’d kicked across the room just now. 

_Pathetic_. It was the only word for it. For him

As he watched a light suddenly went on, shining directly into his face and he practically hissed at it, holding his arm up to block it. “Fuck, Annie. Turn it off.”

“Easy there, Vlad. It’s not sunlight, you’ll be fine.” She adjusted the angle of the light slightly. “Better?”

“My eyes hurt.” He complained. 

Annie re-appeared in the camera. She grabbed a pair of yellow plastic novelty sunglasses off one of her bookshelves and handed them to him. “Try these.”

Hungover Anders watched as drunken pathetic Anders fumbled to get them on. The earpieces seemed to be giving him particular trouble. 

Annie reached out to try and help him and he slapped her hand away. “I can do it myself.” He snapped at her. 

_Andraste’s granny panties_. He thought, reminding himself to apologize to her later. 

Of course, being Annie, she didn’t seem at all bothered by the rudeness. “My mistake big guy. I thought you were having some difficulty. Glasses can be tricky things.” She pulled a second beanbag chair next to his and flopped down beside him, looking at him expectantly. 

He had managed to get the sunglasses on more or less. They weren’t exactly straight, but they stayed on.

“Better?” She asked.

“Very much so. How do they look?” He asked, turning towards her.

“Marvelous. You should consider wearing them all the time.” She said with a perfectly straight face.

Drunken Anders positively preened at her. “I’ve always been able to pull off bold fashion statements. When I was young I was a positive peacock!” He proclaimed. 

“Really? Where did you put all the feathers?”

Drunken Anders gave her a confused frown. “What feathers?”

Hungover Anders hid his face in his hands.

“Never mind.” Said Annie. “Let’s hear this wisdom.” 

Sober Anders peeked through his fingers to see just what pearls of wisdom he’d come up with.

Drunken Anders shifted suddenly and reached beneath his leg and pulled out a water pistol. He gave Annie a disapproving look. “You should never leave guns just lying about. That’s how accidents happen.” He told her sternly.

You could see she was trying not to laugh. “You’d better hold on to it, then. You know how I am.” She told him. 

Drunken Anders smiled approvingly. “Yes. Very wise.” And he proceeded to sit there grinning stupidly until Annie prompted him again.

“You were sharing your hard earned wisdom with us?”

“Yes!” He exclaimed again, pointing at her as if she were a particularly bright student in a lecture. “Well done.” He sat up straight; well as straight as one could in a beanbag chair. “Always…” He began, looking straight at her.

“Don’t tell me.” She said, laughing. “We’re recording this for posterity.” She said indicating the camera. “Tell them.”

Drunken Anders turned to face the computer. “Always…” He began again and then frowned seeming to think about it. “Never…” He corrected. He tried to hold up his hand with one finger raised and realized he was still holding the water pistol. The next several seconds were spent trying to shake it off his hand as his finger seemed to be stuck in the loop of the trigger. He finally succeeded and it went flying across the room. He pointed triumphantly. “Always…”

“Never.” Annie corrected.

“Never…”He repeated. “Fall in love.” He smiled triumphantly at both Annie, and the computer.

Annie was laughing. “So is it always or never?” She asked.

“A-ha!” He crowed excitedly. “Yes! Exactly my point!” And with that ridiculous drunken grin still on his face he passed out.

Hungover Anders groaned and buried his face in his hands again. 

“Anders?” He heard Annie ask on the computer. “Anders?” When he looked up the screen had changed. She was in the kitchen of the apartment and it was morning. 

“So there you have it. The extent of your adventures with alcohol last night. I spent the night in your room because you, my friend, are a horrible bed hog and you snore like anything when you’re drunk. I’m running out now to pick up some curry, because though you’ll never admit it we all know that’s the best thing for a hangover, and though I suspect you’ll try and deny it, you are going to have the mother of all hangovers this morning. Come down when you’re able. I’m looking forward to hearing more detail on that whole falling in love thing. I couldn’t quite decide if you were in favor of it or not.” She was still laughing as she shut off the camera.

In spite of his still throbbing head he found himself smiling. _In favor._ He thought. _Definitely in favor._


	2. Gustav sells his photos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gustav fails to take the kinds of pictures Meeran's looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Sebastian & Annie have been seeing each other for a few weeks.

“Get the Void out of here and don’t show your face again until you’ve got something I can bloody well use!”

Gustav stumbled down the stairs from Meeran’s seedy office, clutching the bag with his camera and laptop in it, the laptop that held all the pictures he’d thought were so promising, but that according to Meeran were just garbage.

Damn Annie Hawke. He’d never actually met the girl, but ever since Meeran had hired him to take pictures for his ‘investigation’ company, he’d found himself compared to her and found wanting in no uncertain terms.

And now she’d started seeing this prince, this Sebastian Vael, and so Meeran had sent him out to get some pictures, and he had. He’d thought they were pretty good actually. 

He paused at the top of the steps leading from the Docks to Lowtown to catch his breath and to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He needed a drink, he decided.

Minutes later he was seated at a bar, and sipping a cold pint. 

Much better.

After a moment he pulled out his laptop to look at the pictures again. 

They weren’t so bad. In fact they weren’t bad at all. He’d followed the two of them around for almost a week to get them. 

He paused at one of them that he’d taken right here in Lowtown Market at the used bookstand. She was peering down at one book, and he, the prince, looking at another, but as he leafed through it he had one hand resting on the back of her neck, and she was leaning just slightly into his touch. 

He moved onto the next. This time they were at a cafe in Hightown, near the prince’s home. They were reading different sections of the Sunday paper, seemingly not paying attention to each other, but if you zoomed in you could see that the prince had his hand under the table, resting on her bare leg, revealed by the short cotton sundress she’d been wearing, and though you couldn’t exactly see it in the pictures he’d been idly stroking the pale skin of her thigh. 

The next two he’d taken while they’d been on line at the movie theatre. The prince had been standing behind her and had bent forward and kissed the top of her head, almost absently, as if he couldn’t resist that mass of red curls. The second picture she was tilting her head back and laughing up at him as he smiled down at her, a completely besotted smile on his face.

Okay so maybe they weren’t the kinds of picture Meeran wanted, like that picture of them necking in the Chantry Plaza that had let all of Kirkwall know that Sebastian Vael had a lady friend again, but Gustav thought there was something in them, something that spoke of more than just summer fling. 

But apparently those didn’t sell.

“Hey isn’t that that prince guy?” A voice asked.

Gustav looked up to find a stocky man standing next to him. He was on the short side, and wearing a half buttoned shirt that revealed a heavy gold chain and a great deal of chest hair.

“Yeah,” Gustav told him. “Sebastian Vael.”

“Mind if I take a look?” The man asked. 

“Knock yourself out.” Gustav told him taking another drink.

“Not bad.” The man said. “That’s the new girlfriend isn’t it? What’s her name again.”

“Annie Hawke.” Gustav grumbled. _Annie Hawke_. Caused him nothing but trouble.

“That’s right.” The man straightened up from the computer. “You interested in selling these? Name’s Tethras. Varric Tethras. I’ve got a small weekly paper and I might be interested in them.”

Gustav perked right up. “Yeah, Sure. I mean, of course, if the price is right.”

Varric smiled. “Why don’t you come on up to my office?” 

Annie walked in a few minutes later, wearing her Hanged Man T-shirt, and slipped behind the bar, “Hey, Corff.”

Corff grunted as he wiped dry some glasses.

“Where’s Varric?” She asked. Usually at this time of day Varric would be holding court at a table in the far corner.

Corff grunted again. “Upstairs with some shady looking fellow. I don’t know what it’s about and I don’t want to know.” 

Annie smiled to herself. Corff always made it sound as if Varric were involved in the shadiest of business deals, and invariably the people he was meeting with were starving students, or artists, or musicians who would somehow end up with jobs, or selling a painting, or getting a gig. Certainly he’d helped her and Carver a dozen times over that she knew about and probably a dozen more she didn’t. 

It was just his way.


	3. In which Sebastian & Annie stargaze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in late summer, a few months after Sebastian and Annie meet.

“And so the gods placed them in the sky but with a river of stars between them, close enough to see each other but doomed to be forever apart as a punishment for their transgressions.” Annie concluded. She turned her head on the cushion and smile at Sebastian.

They were lying on the double lounge chair by the pool at his beach house staring up at the stars. 

Earlier in the evening she’d marveled at how many more stars you could see here than in Kirkwall, and so he’d turned off all the outside lights to make them even brighter. For a while they just lain there next to each other in the dark, her head on his shoulder and his arms wrapped around her, but then she’d begun naming the constellations and telling the myths behind him, not the ones he was familiar with, but the Avvar ones she’d learned when her family had lived right on the border of the Kocari Wildlife Refuge. 

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “They’re marvelous stories,” he told her, “but why do I suspect you made at least half of them up?” 

She laughed that rich throaty laugh of hers. “Well, the characters are from Avvar mythology. Most of them anyway. There wasn’t actually a dog.” 

“Fereldan to the core.” He murmured, looking up at the sky again. It was breathtaking, and he tried to remember when he’d last taken a moment to just lie there looking up at it. “Would you go to outer space if you could?” He asked. 

She thought about it a moment. “No, There’s too many wonderful things on this planet that I haven’t seen yet.” She shifted suddenly resting her chin on his chest, looking up at him. “What about you?”

His hand came up and gently stroked her back. “When I was a boy I wanted to, after the moon landing on Satina. But of course back then I would have taken any opportunity to get away from my family.”

“And now?” She asked.

He smiled at her. “And now the woman I love has no desire to leave this planet, so I’ll gladly spend my life exploring it with her.”


	4. In which Sebastian throws his annual beach party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place at the beginning of Sebastian & Annie's first summer together.

For the past half dozen years Sebastian Vael had held a start of summer party at his Wounded Coast beach house: it had become one of the most sought after invitations of Kirkwall society.

The house, of entirely modern design, all clean and crisp lines and sharp angles, made of white limestone and glass, was situated on a cliff overlooking the Waking Sea. It was cleverly designed so that the doors and floor to ceiling windows could be retracted, leaving the whole of it open to the ocean breezes: the perfect retreat from the stifling heat of a Kirkwall summer.

Sebastian had been one of the first to build out here, and he’d made sure to purchase land enough so that even when the area began to become a fashionable location for a weekend getaway, privacy was still guaranteed. It was his retreat, his oasis, and with a very few exceptions, no one was ever invited there, except for this one party. 

It was billed as an informal affair (and the agonies of what this meant in terms of dress was dreaded almost as much as an invitation was desired). There would be swimming, in the infinity pool, or for those more adventurous souls who wanted to make the trek down the path to the cove at the base of the cliff, the ocean. Dinner was served al fresco, always catered by one of the top chefs in the Free Marches that Sebastian would somehow persuaded to make the trek out there. After the sun set, there would be a band, and dancing.

This year was different though, and not in a way that the single ladies of Kirkwall approved of: this year there was a hostess.

Well not precisely a hostess, but there was this girl there, the one whose picture had been in the paper a handful of times, the one who’d appeared out of nowhere, an Amell, apparently, Leandra’s daughter from that Fereldan _mésalliance_ that even she seemed to want to put behind her, but not an Amell like any that Kirkwall had seen before. This Amell worked for a living, a photographer, but apparently not one good enough to support herself, because the rumor was that she worked part time at a bar, in Lowtown of all places. 

And yet when everyone had arrived at midday she’d already been there at Sebastian’s side, greeting people as if she belonged there, barefoot, clad in a white bikini with a sarong tied loosely around her waist, as if that were the sort of thing one wore to a summer party at the beach.

And it soon became apparent, that even if the ludicrous idea that she was serving as hostess proved to be true, she had no idea how to carry out that role.

She spoke to the catering staff: not just to order them about, but actually carried on conversations, knew their names and on more than one occasion took their trays from them and offered them around, at one point soaking wet, having just come out of the pool, laughing about dripping water on the crab puffs while offering them to Ruxton Harimann, who, poor man, didn’t seem to know what to make of her. And after dinner, when everyone had changed into their carefully chosen designer caftans or shift dresses of bold tropical florals or _très amusant_ nautical prints, with appropriate ‘fun’ jewelry, every hair in place again and makeup perfectly reapplied, she’d turned up in an entirely unadorned slip dress that came to mid-calf, made of washed silk in a persimmon color which Maker knew she should never have attempted with that vulgar red hair.

That she wore very little beneath it was obvious whenever she moved and the silk moved around her or when the ocean breeze blew the fabric so it clung against her. And she hadn’t bothered with makeup or jewelry or even to dry her hair, she’d just twisted it in a knot and speared it into place with some peculiar wooden object that looked to be Rivaini or of an equally inappropriate origin.

And obviously Sebastian didn’t approve, or why else would he have pulled it out running his hands through her still damp hair (and who wore their hair like that, long and wild and reaching almost to her waist?) and then reaching past her to snap off a red hibiscus flower and tuck it behind her ear as she laughed up at him.

And she didn’t have the sense the Maker gave a goose, obviously, because instead of pressing her advantage she’d gone running off to dance with not one, but two other men; Saemus Dumar (which could be excused given who his father was) and some odd Qunari fellow, probably a friend of hers that she’d invited and the three of them were making a spectacle of themselves and Sebastian Vael was nowhere to be seen.

“Well, obviously it won’t last,” sniffed Fifi De Launcet.

“Of course not,” her sister Babette agreed. “She’s just the flavor of the month.”

“Exactly.” Fifi took a perhaps overly large swallow of her chilled chardonnay. “A summer fling.”

Lorna Reinhardt frowned. “But he’s never had a summer fling before, has he? And didn’t he start seeing her in the spring?” She looked back and forth between the two sisters.

“Even if it did, it won’t last.” Fifi repeated. “Not once the Season has started.”

Babette nodded. “She’ll be long gone by then. It’s not as if he’s in love with her, that’s plain as the nose on your face.” 

Fifi frowned and raised a hand to the rather large and masculine De Launcet nose she’d inherited from her father. “I need more wine. You know last year you couldn’t turn around without a waiter being there to see to your needs. It’s obviously her doing.”

As Sebastian watched, they drifted away to the bar that was set up at the other end of the pool.

He never failed to be surprised at how two-faced people could be. Three young women, blessed by birth and circumstance, letting their jealousy and resentment get the better of them. 

He looked at Anabel, dancing with Ashaad and Saemus and couldn’t help smiling. He’d never known anyone who found more joy in life: who’d brought more joy into his life.

_Well obviously it won’t last_.

The De Launcet girl was wrong. Though Anabel had only been in his life a few months he couldn’t imagine it without her and the longer he was with her, the harder it was to be away from her. 

And she was wrong about the other thing as well: it’s not as though he’s in love with her.

He’d never felt about anyone the way he did about Anabel Hawke, had never loved anyone the way he did her.

As he watched, she gave Saemus a kiss on the cheek, and Ashaad a one-armed hug, and left them on the dance floor. Her cheeks were flushed and she was breathing hard as she walked back to the corner of the raised platform that served as a stage for the band he’d hired, a slightly different band this year, friends of Anabel’s that he’d heard play at the Hanged Man, a little livelier and more current than bands he usually hired. She picked up the bottled water she’d left there and took a long drink, and suddenly he remembered the rest of Fifi’s statement.

_It’s not as if he’s in love with her, that’s as plain as the nose on your face._

Was that truly what people thought, what his friends thought? And immediately following that thought came another:

Was that what Anabel thought? 

He loved her, he’d admitted that more times than he could count, but he hadn’t said the words aloud, not to her, not yet.

He hadn’t said them to anyone, not since his grandfather had passed away, not for two decades.

His life had been that empty. 

That would change now, he decided abruptly, and crossed to where she stood by the speakers.

Her face lit up when she saw him. “It’s going well don’t you think?” 

The band was going into the final bars of the number, and he could barely hear her. 

“Yes.” He agreed. “Anabel, I love you.”

She frowned and shook her head. “Sorry?” she gestured to the band behind her. “I can’t hear you.”

He couldn’t help smiling. Twenty years since he’d said the words out loud and when he did she couldn’t hear him. All that was left was for him to say it again and louder, loud enough to be heard over a hundred bands if need be.

He took her hands in his, and said as loudly as he could. “ANABEL HAWKE…”

With a loud flourish the song ended.

“…I LOVE YOU!” Sebastian shouted into the sudden silence.

Every head turned to look at them. Even the members of the band were gaping down at them.

And to his surprise he found he didn’t mind at all. He let go of Anabel’s hands and slid his arms around her pulling her close. “I love you.” He repeated for a third time, but so softly this time that only she could hear him and bending his head he kissed her.

And only he could hear her when she smiled and whispered against his lips, “I love you too.”


	5. In which Sebastian introduces Annie to his friend Nathaniel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> takes place the winter after Sebastian and Annie first meet

Nathaniel Howe took a sip of his whiskey – the finest whiskey Starkhaven afforded and sat back in the leather armchair, looking around at the restrained but rich décor of the Oak Room, one of the bars at the Kirkwall Plaza, frequented by the rich and socially significant of the city. Outside the temperature had dropped and snow had begun to fall again, but sitting here, by the cheerfully blazing fire that burned in the oversized fireplace, you’d never know it. 

“I’d forgotten how good truly good whiskey was.” He commented to his companion. “It’s been years since I had access to it with any regularity, not since my father and I parted ways. Not that he ever paid for the stuff himself, but he always made sure we visited those who did.” 

Sebastian smiled. Commiserating about their less than affectionate parents had cemented their friendship while they’d been at university together. “We can order another round if you like.”

Nathaniel shook his head. “No. This one’s already going to my head. I’m no longer as accustomed to it as I used to be, and I want to be sober when I meet your new lady love.” 

He watched Sebastian’s face light up and had to hide a smile. He’d never thought to see an expression like that on his friend’s face. Oh, he’d seen something resembling it, when Sebastian bought a new sports car or sailboat, but never in response to a woman, and certainly never at just the mention of a woman. “Tell me about her.” 

“Anabel? She’s extraordinary. I’ve never met anyone like her.” Sebastian paused as if considering how to phrase it. “She experiences things with an enthusiasm and appreciation that I’ve never encountered in anyone, and she shares that enthusiasm. She makes me feel alive. As if I’m seeing everything for the first time, makes me look at them in entirely new and different ways. I wake up and go to sleep wondering how I ever went through life without her.”

Nathaniel blinked at him in surprise. He’d expected some brief recitation of facts: where the girl was from, what she did for a living, how they’d met, not this glowing tribute that left him with the uneasy feeling that Sebastian was about to burst into song. 

His face must have shown something of what he was feeling because Sebastian started laughing. “I know. I sound quite mad.”

“Who’s quite mad?” 

Both men looked up.

Nathaniel’s first impression was of color: furry turquoise boots, jeans, a bright pink sweater worn over a plaid flannel shirt of blue and red, a men’s shirt he decided, judging by the tail of it, which reached to mid-thigh. A purple knit scarf was wound round twice around her neck and still managed to reach to her knees. Strangely enough, her clothing wasn’t the most colorful thing about her though; that was reserved for her pink cheeks, large laughing eyes that he thought were blue, then changed his mind to green and then realized were both, and all of it crowned by flaming red hair, worn loose and reaching almost to her waist. 

Dear Maker she was stunning. Stunning, and strangely…familiar. And young, far younger than he’d thought she’d be, and nothing like any of the other women Sebastian had ever been involved with, to his knowledge.

Sebastian had gotten to his feet and kissed her on the cheek. “Where’s your coat?” He asked with a frown.

“I forgot it at the Hanged Man. If I’d gone back for it I would have missed the bus.” 

Sebastian’s frown deepened. “And your gloves?”

She laughed, a low rich laugh that sent a small shiver through Nathaniel. “I left them on the bus, can you believe it?”

“Anabel…” Sebastian said in a reprimanding tone.

“I know, I’m hopeless.” She turned to Nathaniel. “I am. He’s right.” She told him, though Sebastian hadn’t actually said the words. Before Nathaniel could respond she’d turned back to Sebastian. “And I forgot to change into respectable clothes as well.” 

Sebastian held out a chair for her, and she sank into it dropping a large tote bag beside it. “I’ve long suspected you take a certain delight in flouting the established dress codes.” He commented dryly. 

She laughed again. “Also true.” She unwound the scarf dropping on top of her bag and ran her fingers through snow dampened curls before turning back to Nathaniel. “You must be Nathaniel.”

She had a dimple in one cheek and something about it nagged at his memory. “I am.” 

“I’m sorry.” Sebastian apologized. “I was distracted by Anabel’s reckless disregard for her own health. Anabel Hawke, Nathaniel Howe.”

Nathaniel had been reaching out his hand to shake hers, but stopped with it halfway there. “Did you say Hawke?” It couldn’t be. “You aren’t related to Malcolm Hawke by any chance?”

She was frowning at him now. “I’m his daughter. Did you know my father?”

Nathaniel’s face went from surprise, to disbelief and then to horror. “Annie?” He asked.

Anabel’s eyes suddenly went round. “Nate?” 

“Sweet Andraste.” Nate muttered before rounding on Sebastian. “You can’t possibly be dating Annie Hawke! She’s a child!” 

Sebastian looked a bit uncomfortable. “She’s young, I agree, but I don’t see that it’s really any of your concern, Nathaniel. How do you even know each other?”

“I was her babysitter!” Nathaniel announced. He cast another look at Annie as if trying to reconcile that child with the woman in front of him and picking up his whiskey, drained the glass. “When she was nine years old.” He added. “I wanted to be a doctor. My father was against it and wouldn’t pay for the tutoring I needed to get my science grades up. Varel knew Annie’s father. He agreed to tutor me in return for babysitting Annie and the twins.” He was frowning at her. “How old are you now?” 

“She’s twenty-three. Hardly a child.” Sebastian said defensively.

Nathaniel stared at her and shook his head. “Twenty-three.” He repeated. “It doesn’t seem possible.” He glared at Sebastian again. “You’re far too old for her.”

“Don’t I get any say about this?” Anabel asked.

“No.” Nathaniel snapped. “You’re a child seduced by a notorious womanizer.”

Annie just grinned at him, and suddenly he could see the skinny little girl with the uneven ponytails. He’d babysat the Hawke kids twice a week for almost a year. The twins were easily entertained and had been no problem. Annie was the one who had kept him on his toes. While the twins went to bed promptly at 8:30, Annie was allowed to stay up as late as she liked. _She’s like me_ , Dr. Hawke had said fondly. _Insomniacs the two of us. We just don’t seem to need sleep the way other people do. She’ll keep herself entertained, don’t worry_. And she had – by reading all the biology and chemistry books Dr. Hawke had assigned to him, and often explaining concepts to him when he failed to understand them. She’d smiled just that way and he found himself smiling back at this new Annie Hawke.

She lunged at him suddenly and hugged him, kissing him on the cheek. “It’s lovely to see you again, Nate.” 

And to his surprise, when he looked at her there were tears in her eyes. He couldn’t help gently touching the side of her face. “You’re beautiful.” He told her. “How on Thedas did that happen?” He teased.

She gave him a withering look and reaching out a hand, tweaked his nose.

He slapped her hand away. “Maker, I hate when you do that.” But he was smiling, remembering those happy evenings.

“I know.” She said, and he knew she was remembering too. 

She got to her feet. “I’m going to go and euphemistically powder my nose.” She bent to kiss Sebastian’s cheek as she passed him. “Don’t tell him about having knocked me up until I get back. I want to see the expression on his face when you do.”


	6. In which Sebastian & Annie escape to warmer climes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> takes place the winter after Sebastian & Annie meet

It was hot; a different kind of heat than she was used to, more intense, more concentrated somehow, the same way the colors around her seemed more intense. The sky was bluer, the flowers brighter, and the ocean – she’d never seen an ocean like that: aqua and turquoise and lapis. She could stare at it for hours, and indeed she had been. It was hot, yes, but the breeze coming off the water and the shade from the carefully landscaped trees around the pool kept it more than comfortable. She closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth, and the breeze, and the sounds of the waves.

“A cold towel, madam?” 

Annie opened her eyes to find one of the pool attendants standing there holding a tray of carefully rolled face towels that had been made wet and then chilled. Another attendant moved behind him, replacing the glasses of water with fresh ones filled with ice. It was a ritual they repeated every quarter of an hour or so. She smiled up at him. “Please.”

He selected one with the tongs he carried and handed it to her, before offering the same to Sebastian. Both attendants gave small bows, and disappeared again, giving them their privacy. 

Annie unfolded the cloth and wiped her face and the back of her neck before flipping over onto her stomach, her face turned to watch Sebastian as he read the morning paper. “What’s the temperature in Kirkwall today?” She asked.

He flipped to the back page. “Single digits. And they’re expecting more snow. Eight to ten inches.”

Her lips curved into a satisfied smile. “Running away to a beach resort in Seheron was a brilliant idea.”

He smiled at her over his reading glasses. “It was indeed.”

She’d never thought she’d find reading glasses so sexy. Of course it helped that they were perched on the tip the most magnificently aristocratic nose in all Thedas, on the most handsome face, and in front of the bluest eyes ever created.

And it didn’t hurt that the body was just as magnificent, or that only thing he wore aside from the reading glasses was a navy blue swimsuit. “I think whoever thought of it deserves a reward of some sort.” She suggested.

He gave her a smile that made her heart skip a beat, and folded up the paper, putting it on the table beside his lounge chair, before carefully removing the reading glasses and placing them next to the paper. “I agree.” He stood and crossed to her side, and sitting on the edge of the chair, brushed her long hair away from her back and she shivered at even that light touch.

“Who was that again?” She asked, her voice suddenly breathy.

He leaned forward and pressed a series of soft, slow kisses up the length of her spine, not stopping until his mouth was at her ear. “You.” He whispered.

She turned so she was lying on her back and slid her arms around his neck. “What a clever girl I am.” She murmured, pulling him down to her.

“The cleverest.” He agreed kissing her. “Now about that reward…”


	7. In which Annie drags Anders to a Solstice fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place the first Solstice after Anders moves into the apartment above the Hanged Man

It was still dark when she woke him, calling his name softly. “Anders. Anders.”

He felt her hand rub his back gently and smiled without opening his eyes. “Mmm.”

“Anders.” A little more insistently this time.

He opened his eyes to find her kneeling on the floor beside his bed. “Are you sick?” It was the only reason he could think of for her to be in his room in what seemed to be the middle of the night.

And didn’t that just sum up the state of his love life these days.

Annie just laughed. “Of course not. We’ve got to get going. You promised to drive me up to the Solstice Fair on Sundermount so I could get presents, and we need to leave now if we’re going to get there when it opens.”

He groaned. “Annie…” He pleaded.

She was having none of it. “You promised. It’s not my fault you stayed up until 2 AM watching ‘Calenhad vs. the Daughters of Flemeth’. Now up and at ‘em. We’ve got serious shopping to do. C’mon. I’ll buy you hot cocoa, and if you’re very good, a funnel cake too.” 

Two hours later they were wandering through the stands. He’d opted for coffee instead of cocoa and forgone the funnel cake completely, though Annie was just finishing her second. The front of the thick cabled sweater she wore was liberally dusted with powdered sugar and she’d already lost the mitten she’d removed when eating the first one. It didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest.

As tired as he was (and he couldn’t believe he’d stayed up watching that movie, even if it was a camp classic with its stop motion darkspawn and undead and over the top cheesy dialogue), he had to admit he was enjoying himself and (dare he admit it) even starting to feel something of the Solstice spirit. Several gifts had been purchased already, and put in the tote bag Annie had brought along but that he’d somehow ended up carrying. The sun was shining, it wasn’t too cold in spite of all the snow on the ground, and he had a beautiful woman on his arm. Granted she was hanging on his arm in order to put her mittenless hand into his pocket, and managing to get a good amount of sugar on his navy pea coat, but he found he didn’t mind that.

“Hey, what do you want for the Solstice?” He asked her.

She smiled up at him, flashing her dimple. “You don’t have to get me anything.”

He rolled his eyes. “I think we both know that’s a lie.”

She just laughed. “A second mitten.” She suggested.

“I’m not sure they’re sold as singles.”

“A pair of them then. That way I’ll always have a spare. Ooh! Look!” She dragged him over to a stand of glass ornaments, handmade from the look of them, some of them quite stunning, but instead of looking at them she went around to the side of the stand where dozens of glass icicles were hanging suspended from a wire strung between two posts. Annie ran her fingers along them, and the sun glinted off them, making the light dance around them. She smiled, a bit wistfully, obviously remembering something. 

He couldn’t quite decide if it was a good memory or a bad. “What are you thinking about?”

She glanced up at him in surprise, as if she’d forgotten he was there, and then the smile broadened. A happy memory then. “When I was a little girl…” She began.

“So last week then?” He teased.

She gave him a small shove. “Hush you. I’m reminiscing. When I was a little girl, about six or seven I think, we were living way out in the Bannorn. Da was running a clinic there, and part of his salary included a house. It wasn’t a pretty house, basically a brick rectangle, but it was the first house we’d lived in – we’d always had apartments before then. I was all excited because we’d never had a house to decorate for the Solstice before and I’d always been so envious of the other kids who put up colored lights all over their house and inflatable snowmen and big light up penguins and candy canes and such.”

“Sounds revolting.” Anders commented.

She ignored the comment. “I thought we’d finally get to do that since we had a house. But Leandra thought all that stuff was terribly tacky and she was perfectly content to hang a simple evergreen wreath with a tasteful red bow on the door. I was so disappointed. Compared to all the other houses in the neighborhood it didn’t even look like we were celebrating the holiday. It was Da who explained that not only did we not have the money for the kinds of decorations I wanted, but the wiring in the house was awful, and we couldn’t have plugged in all those lights without shorting out everything. I was such a little wretch. I told him I didn’t care about the house or the money. I whined and complained that everyone had a Solstice house but us, and that it wasn’t fair.“ She ran her fingers through the icicles again, and they made of soft tinkling chime. 

“Was he angry?” Anders asked.

She blinked at him in surprise. “Da? No. Da never got angry about things like that: he fixed them, in the most wonderful ways possible. He told me the Solstice was a magical time and you never knew what might happen.” She was smiling again. “And when I woke up on Solstice morning and pulled back the curtain all I could see was icicles. They covered practically the whole window but the sun was shining through them and it made the light glitter into the room and it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I ran downstairs in my nightgown and shoved my feet into my snow boots and ran outside like that and found the whole house was covered in icicles.” She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling at the memory. “You see, in addition to being a brick rectangle and having horrible wiring, it was the least airtight house ever built. Leandra used to complain that we weren’t heating the house, we were heating the whole neighborhood. Well Da, being the cleverest man ever, used that to his advantage. While we were sleeping he’d gone out and sprayed the roof with the hose and the combination of the snow, and the heat leaking out at the attic and the water and it being bitterly cold out had made icicles along the entire roof line. It made that ugly brick rectangle look like some sort of enchanted winter palace. They stayed like that for weeks. It was just perfect.” She looked past him and her face lit up. “The pretzel guy! Do you want one?” She asked.

“No, I’m good.” He said and watched with a smile as she went weaving through the crowd to get her pretzel. He turned back and beckoned the proprietor over. “I wanted to get some of these icicles.” He told the man.

“Of course, ser. How many?” 

Anders stared at the icicles remembering the smile on Annie’s face as she’d told the story. “Do you take credit cards?” He asked.

“Of course, ser.”

“All of them.”


	8. In which Anders comes to Annie's rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> takes place about two years after Anders moves into the apartment

Lirene was on the phone when Anders walked out to the front of the clinic, a fact that he ignored.

“I’m running out to grab something to eat.” He told her. “I don’t care how many walk-ins we have, I’ve been going non-stop since 7:30 and I don’t get paid enough to pass out from hunger while I work.”

Lirene held up her hand to silence him. “Yes, he’s just walked in, I’ll put him on.” She held out the phone to him.

“No.” He said flatly.

Lirene gave him a reproving frown.

“No.” He repeated. “I can guarantee you there is no one on the other end of the phone that I have the slightest desire to talk to.”

Lirene raised a knowing eyebrow. “It’s Annie Hawke.” She smirked when he immediately grabbed the phone from her.

“Shut up.” He told her.

“Did you just tell me to shut up? That’s a bit rude. I haven’t even said anything yet.” That rich caramel voice washed over him. 

“No, not you, I was talking to Lirene.”

“Still a bit rude.” Annie commented. “How’s your day going?”

“I’m only just leaving to get some lunch and it’s almost three, if that gives you any idea.” 

“Poor you!” She said, just oozing sympathy. “I’ve just found a great place for lunch. It’s a little out of the way but it’s quite picturesque. You should meet me and we can have lunch together.”

His day was beginning to turn around. “It’s not that Rivaini place down by the Docks is it?”

“No. I do go to other restaurants you know. I just happen to like Rivaini food.”

That was an understatement. “So where is this place?” He said with a smile.

There was a small pause. “I think it’s near Sundermount.”

And the smile disappeared. “You think…” He started to repeat and then stopped. “Maferath’s balls, Annie. Are you lost again?”

Another pause. “Define lost.”

_Shit._ Annie Hawke had possibly the worst sense of direction of anyone he’d ever met. “Lost, as in you don’t know where the Void you are or how to get back to where you’re supposed to be.”

“Well you see not all of those actually apply to my particular situation. I know exactly where I am, outside a pub called the Horn and the Halla. And I’m supposed to be back in Kirkwall, I’m just working out the details of how.” 

“Uh-huh.” Said Anders, unconvinced. “And just where is the Horn and the Halla?”

“I couldn’t say for certain, but you know that road that you take, just outside Kirkwall before you get to the Wounded Coast Highway? The one that’s just after that deserted drive-in?”

Oddly enough he did. “Yes.”

“Well it’s not that one.”

_Sweet Andraste_. “Annie…”

“There’s another turn just a ways past it. That’s the one I took. You can’t miss it. There’s a big tree on the corner. It’s beautiful. I got some great pictures of it. Just take a right at the tree and keep going. The inn’s on the same road, just a few miles further on.” 

Right. Who could miss a big tree up on Sundermount? “Any other landmarks?”

“Well, the VW’s on the side of the road about a mile or so from here. I think the gas gauge must be broken.”

“You ran out of gas?” 

She laughed. “I must have. The thing is, the arrow’s always on empty no matter how much gas you put in it, so it’s hard to tell.”

“And it didn’t occur to you to put some gas in the thing before you left, just in case?”

“I meant to, but I forgot. And that wouldn’t have helped with the flat tire anyway now, would it?” 

“You ran out of gas and you have a flat tire?” He didn’t even know why he was surprised. This sort of thing seemed to happen to her with alarming frequency.

“I know! I can’t quite figure out which happened first. It’s kind of a chicken or the egg kind of thing, isn’t it?”

_No, it really wasn’t_ , he thought, and wondered just how long she’d been driving with a flat tire. “I am not driving out to Sundermount to change your tire.” He told her.

“Don’t be silly. That’s not why I called. We don’t even have a spare tire for the VW. I just need a lift back. Mrs. Mahariel’s nephew’s going to tow the car back to Kirkwall in exchange for my taking some pictures for a brochure for the Inn, and she’s throwing in lunch. All you have to do is borrow Varric’s car and come find me. He’s leaving the keys with Corff.” 

Lirene shoved a pad of paper in front of him.

_Go_. It said. _Jowan misread the schedule, came in an hour early, and hasn’t realized it yet. I’ll give him your patients. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him._

_Thank you,_ he mouthed at her. “All right.” He told Annie. “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”


	9. In which Sebastian realizes the importance of bubble bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> takes place about two months after Sebastian and Annie start seeing each other

“I thought I might take a bath.” Annie said.

Sebastian glanced over at her as he finished the stroke of his razor and rinsed it off under the tap. She’d wandered into the bathroom just when he’d begun shaving, wearing the shirt he had on the night before and climbed up onto the counter sitting cross-legged, leaning her head back against the wall and watching him with eyes that were only half open. The statement about the bath was the first thing she'd said. 

“That sounds like a fine idea.” He leaned over and kissed her gently on the mouth. “Good Morning.” He said softly.

Her mouth curved into a smile. “Morning.” She murmured. “Where do you keep all the bath things?”

He frowned. “Bath things?”

“You know: bubbles and sponges and loofahs and such. Rubber ducks. Toy submarines.”

“Ah.” He said trying to figure out just how serious she was about this. “I’m afraid I haven’t had a toy submarines for, oh, decades now.”

She shook her head in a resigned manner. “I should have known that was too much to hope for. I’ll settle for just bubble bath then.” 

“I don’t think I’ve got any of that either.” He apologized.

She looked genuinely perplexed. “Bath salts? Bath bombs?”

“No and no.” He said wondering what a bath bomb actually was. “I’ve never actually used the bathtub.” He confessed

Her expression went from perplexed to outraged. “How can you have a tub like this?” She said gesturing at the enormous pedestal bathtub made of the same veined white marble that tiled the floors and the large shower in the corner. “And not have any bath things?”

He couldn’t help laughing. “I prefer the shower.” 

Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t deserve a bathtub like this.” She informed him disapprovingly. 

He walked over to the sink and pulled her close. Her legs wrapped automatically around his hips. “I seem to have a great many things I don’t deserve. You for instance.” He said and kissed her again, less gently this time. “Now, would you like me to run your bath for you before I leave?’

She shook her head. “There’s no point without bath things. I’ll just have to make due with a shower. Such a disappointment.” She said with an exaggerated sigh.

She’d forgotten about it by the time she met him for dinner in Hightown that evening. She was running late as usual, and he was already at the table when she got there. 

He stood as she approached, waiving the maître d’ away, and holding her chair out for her himself before returning to his seat. 

They perused the menus and ordered and once the waiter had retreated he reached beneath the table and pulled out a small shopping bag, handing it to her. She took it, tilting her head to one side.

“For me?” She asked. 

She always sounded surprised when he gave her gifts. “Very much so.” He said, watching her carefully as she pushed aside the colored tissue paper and peered inside.

She started laughing as she reached in a hand, rummaging through it. “Bubble bath. Bath bombs. Soaps. A loofah, and…” She reached in and pulled out a small rubber duck that sported a small bow on its head, not unlike the bows she occasionally favored. “And even a rubber duck.” She looked up at him with shining eyes and a smile that took his breath away. “You’re perfect.” She told him happily. 

He’d given women diamonds and not had such a reaction. “There’s one you missed.” He told her.

She looked in the bag again and laughed loudly enough that several heads turned towards them as she pulled out a small wind up submarine. She turned it and watched and the propeller spun around. “Perfect.” She repeated. “Just what I need. Forget the fancy dinner. I want to go and have that bath now.”

“Oh the submarine’s not for you.” He informed her. “It’s for me.” He said with a sudden gleam in his eye. “I was thinking there might be room for the both of us in that bathtub.”


	10. In which Sebastian asks Annie to 'dress properly'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place when Annie and Sebastian have been dating for about six months

"Oh and if you could dress properly. It's a conservative crowd at this luncheon." Sebastian had said absently, looking over some papers his secretary had just handed him. "I'm sorry I've got to run. I'll see you there." and he'd hung up before she could reply.

It might have been fine if Annie hadn’t just gotten a twenty minute lecture from her mother about how she needed to change her entire wardrobe and start to dress appropriately now that she was finally embracing her social responsibilities as an Amell, or Sebastian was going to lose interest. That dress she’d worn to the tea that Elthina Chantry had held the other day, for instance. looked like it had been pulled out of a bin at the Lowtown Market, and the color! How many times did Leandra have to tell her that with her unfortunate hair the last color she should be wearing was bright pink?

She’d barely hung up on that conversation, when Sebastian had rung with his request she dress ‘properly’. 

She sat their for a moment glowering at her phone before getting to her feet and shouting, “Isabela! We’re going to Elegant’s shop!”

 

Sebastian’s eyes searched the room for her. She was usually easy to spot at any Hightown affair they attended together: dressed far less conventionally than anyone else, and in much brighter colors, she stood out like a bird of paradise in a flock of crows. 

It took him two sweeps of the room before he finally spotted her, and only then because she’d left her hair loose, though she’d covered it with an elegant navy blue hat, the brim of which was actually wider than she was.

She was all in navy blue: a tailored navy blue dress, trimmed with white, and she carried an unadorned matching navy clutch. He glanced down at her feet. 

Navy blue pumps. Just pumps, just navy blue. No kitten heel, or stilettos, no enticing ankle strap, and sweet Andraste, she was actually wearing hose. 

Were it not for the hair she would have blended in completely, and he was surprised at the visceral reaction he had to that thought. _No._

What on Thedas had come over her? 

“Doesn’t she look perfect?” Asked a satisfied voice at his side. He looked down to find Leandra Amell beside him. “Well, almost perfect. That hair…I’ve already told her she should have pulled it back neatly, but I’m still very pleased with the results of our little talk this morning.”

“Your talk?” Sebastian asked with a frown.

“I told her that she needed to stop wearing those ridiculous outfits of hers and start dressing like an adult. I warned her that while you might find her eccentricities quirky and charming now, that eventually they would wear thin. I’m so pleased that she took it to heart.” 

And then he’d made the off hand remark about 'dressing properly'. “Of course.” He murmured. “If you’ll excuse me?” He crossed to where Annie was standing, next to some of the biggest bores in Kirkwall. 

“The simple truth is that we need to regulate immigration or we’ll lose the very things that make Kirkwall, Kirkwall.” Ruxton Harimman was saying.

There was a murmuring of assent, though Sebastian noticed that Annie took a sip of her champagne instead.

“It’s a pity that Kirkwall’s by the sea or we could simply build a wall to keep them out.” She suggested innocently. 

“That would be the perfect solution. Trust an Amell to see it so clearly.” Ruxton agreed and a chorus of voices echoed the sentiment.

Sebastian saw just a flash of contempt in Annie’s eyes before she looked down and he quickly stepped forward, kissing her on the cheek. “I’m sorry I’m late. Thank you for keeping her amused, gentlemen.” He put a hand at the small of her back and quickly ushered her away.

“Thank goodness you arrived when you did.” She told him. “I was behaving myself, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.”

He led her out onto a corner of the balcony. “I owe you an apology.” He said

She seemed genuinely confused. “For what?” 

“For asking you to dress properly this morning. It was poorly phrased. I simply meant that it was a more formal affair not that you needed to change your wardrobe and I certainly didn’t mean that you had to dress like this. Not that you don’t look beautiful.” He added hastily, 

She just laughed. “It was kind of fun actually. And yes, I was irritated at first but I’m long since over it. Admit it though – I fit in pretty well.”

“Frighteningly so. Had it not been for your hair I might not have recognized you.”

“I meant to put it up.” She told him. “But there’s too much of it. The hat wouldn’t fit.”

“It’s quite a hat.” 

“I know! It’s one of Isabela’s.” 

“And the rest of the outfit?” He asked.

“Borrowed from Elegant.” 

“Are you wearing anything of yours?” He asked slipping his hands around her waist.

She looked thoughtful. “I might be wearing my Superman undies.” She informed him.

The Superman underpants, Boys’ underpants that she wore on occasion, that stretched over the perfect curve of her bottom in a way that was completely feminine. He’d never thought he find such a thing enticing but he’d been proved wrong about that on several different occasions now. “You might be wearing them?” He asked with a slow smile.

She pursed her lips, thinking about it. “They might be the Spiderman ones.” She admitted. “And of course there’s always the distinct possibility that I was in such a rush I might have forgotten them entirely.” 

Sebastian heart skipped a beat and began pounding. “Truly?”

She was looking up at him, dressed so properly in her navy and white, her face framed by the brim of that ridiculous hat. “Mmhm. I might be wearing nothing but stockings and a garter belt. “There’s really only one way to be sure.” She looked up at him through her lashes. 

He didn’t speak for a moment and then abruptly took her champagne glass from her, leaving it on the balcony railing and taking her by the hand, led her back inside and immediately towards the door. 

“Are we leaving already?” Annie asked innocently.

“We are.” He told her. 

“And why is that?”

Sebastian stopped at the door, and pulling her into his arms kissed her as thoroughly as he had ever kissed her before, in public or in private, tilting her head so far back that her hat slipped off and onto the floor. He broke the kiss noting with satisfaction her reddened lips and the dazed look in her eyes. 

Ignoring the none too subtle stares from nearby guests, he bent and picked up her hat. “Because in spite of my request this morning it seems you need some remedial lessons on just what dressing properly entails.” He replaced the hat, tucking back some stray curls. “I’m sure you’ll agree.” 

A delighted smile lit up her face, but she quickly hid it. “Oh, I do.” She agreed seriously. “I really do.”


	11. In which Annie and Sebastian stop for gas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> takes place the summer after Sebastian & Annie have started seeing each other

The gas pump was just spitting out the receipt when Annie exited the 24-hour convenience store walking backwards and pushing the door open with her behind. “Take care, Pete.” She called out.

Sebastian couldn’t help smiling. She managed to learn the name, and usually a brief history of almost everyone she encountered. He’d never seen anything like it.

She turned around and walked towards him, holding a cup of coffee in each hand and with a plastic grocery bag dangling from her wrist. It was only as she got closer that he looked down at her feet and frowned.

“Please tell me you did not just walk into a gas station convenience store in your bare feet.”

Annie seemed to think about the request. “Well, I could.” She said finally. “But it would be a lie.”

Sebastian gave a small shudder. “I feel as if we should stop and get you a tetanus shot on the way.”

She just laughed. “You worry too much.” She informed him. “One coffee, black.” She said handing it to him. “Pete made a new pot for me, so it shouldn’t be too bad.”

Another conquest. “And how is Pete?” He asked.

“A bit worried about his Chemistry final actually, but it’s still a few days away. I told him if he studies hard and passes it I’d get Carver to get him some tickets to the rugby match next Saturday. Turns out he follows college rugby. He knew who Carver was and everything. I can’t believe Carver’s got a following.” 

Sebastian opened the car door for her. “And how will you know if Pete did pass his exam?” He asked.

“Oh, I told him we’d stop by next weekend on our way back.” She gathered the skirt of her dress close so it wouldn’t be caught in the car door and he shut it carefully.

She was still wearing the dress she’d had on at the party: soft and flowing of a smoky deep blue. It had long sleeves and the hem ended somewhere around her ankles but it had a slit in the front that went up to mid-thigh and she’d worn it as gracefully as a dancer. At some point in the evening she’d pulled a couple of scarlet roses out of the floral arrangement and stuck them in her hair as she’d been chatting with the Orlesian ambassador. It was a move that only a handful of women in Thedas could have pulled off so effortlessly, and was all the more impressive because he knew that with her, it wasn’t a move at all.

He’d changed out of his suit before they left, substituting a pair of black jeans and sneakers though he’d left on the button down shirt and tie.

Annie had declined to change. “The zipper’s a bit tricky. I’d need your help with it, and we both know how that ends.” She’d told him with a knowing look.

Sebastian couldn’t honestly argue the point.

The party they’d attended hadn’t ended until after three, and they’d made the spontaneous decision to drive out to the beach house tonight, instead of waiting until the next morning as they’d originally planned.

He walked around to the driver’s side and got in, buckling his seat belt. When he turned to look at her she was pulling what appeared to be a cardboard canister out of the bag. She popped off the plastic lid and removed some sort of paper seal and then pulled out what seemed to be a potato chip, but couldn’t be: it was far too uniform and perfect a shape. 

It also appeared to be covered in a vibrant orange powder. 

“What is that?” He asked with a frown.

She looked surprised. “They’re Pringles.” She told him. “Cheddar Cheese Pringles.”

He gave her a blank stare.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never had Pringles!” She sounded horrified.

Without speaking he took the canister from her hand, turning it until he found the list of ingredients. “Dried potatoes…” He began and immediately stopped. “Sweet Andraste.” He muttered under his breath. His eyes scanned the rest of the list, which read like the inventory of a chemistry lab. It included no less than four different yellow dyes. “How on Thedas can you go from a five course meal cooked by arguably the finest chef in Orlais to these?” He asked.

“They’re good!” She insisted and as if to emphasize the statement she put the chip in her mouth. The whole thing. In one bite. 

She burst out laughing when she saw the expression on his face and a few crumbs sprayed out, which only made her laugh harder.

Even he couldn’t help smiling as he started the engine and pulled out of the gas station. “You’re a barbarian.” He told her.

“Yes.” She said, taking another chip. “But I’m your barbarian.”

“Yes, you are.” He admitted. He reached over and took her hand and pressed it to his lips and she shifted closer, leaning her head on his shoulder.

The sky was starting to get light.

“Can we stop at our overlook and watch the sun rise?” She asked referring to the overlook where they’d had the car accident that had begun their relationship. 

“We can.” He agreed. “And then what?” 

She was smiling when he looked at her. “And then you can take me to the beach house and help me with that tricky zipper.”

_And we both know how that ends._

“It sounds like a perfect start to the day.” He informed her. 

And it truly did.


	12. In which Annie surprises Sebastian in Val Royeaux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> takes place in late fall after Sebastian and Annie have been seeing each other for several months

Sebastian fastened the second silver cufflink and slipped on the jacket of his charcoal grey suit before picking up his phone and dialing Anabel’s number. She insisted he call last thing at night and first thing in the morning when business took him out of town but not wanting to wake her, he always waited until the last moment in the morning. 

The phone rang seven times before she answered in an incoherent multisyllabic grumble.

“Good Morning, love.” He said, smiling. He could just picture her lying in her bed in the attic in a tangle of sheets and long red hair.

“Hi…” She said in a happy breath. “What time is it?”

“Just before eight o’clock. I’m about to walk out the door. I’ve got meetings all day until 5 and then dinner out.”

“That could be fun.” She said with a yawn. “The dinner part at least.”

Sebastian gave a small snort. “Sadly the company will probably make it more trying than fun, I’m afraid. I’m dining with Gaspard and Leopold de Chalons.”

“Brothers or husband and husband?”

Sebastian couldn’t help laughing, imagining Gaspard’s face at the question. “They’re cousins actually. Very wealthy, very eager to have their names attached to worthy causes, and tedious beyond belief: all sport and hunting and expensive food and drink.” 

“Sounds tiresome. Can you plead an early evening?”

“There’s no such thing with them. We were friends when I was at university so they’ll insist on coming back here to the Ritz for drinks when dinner’s through so we can ‘catch up’ and I’ll be forced to watch as they appraise the physical attributes of every female in the bar and make bets as to which of them will be able to bring the prettiest one back home, and to listen as they lament the fact that I no longer join in their games”

“Sounds like they never moved beyond university, just to a more expensive bar. I’ve never understood why picking up women in bars is such a fantasy for men. Did you really used to do it? It seems so unlike you.”

He slipped his watch on and fastened it. “I did. I was rather good at it actually.”

“I can imagine. Do you miss it?” 

“Miss it is too strong a word. I found it enjoyable on occasion; the thrill of the hunt and all. It depended on the prey of course.” 

“It might be fun being your prey.” She teased.

“And you would be the only prey that might have me playing that game again.” He said with a smile. “I’ve got to run. Have a wonderful day and I’ll call you tonight as soon as I can escape. I’ll be thinking of you.”

“I’ll be thinking of you too.” She said softly. “Six more days.”

“Six more days.” He agreed. “I’ll speak to you tonight.”

The call disconnected and Annie lay there staring up at the attic ceiling, wondering what she would do today to fill the time. She was photographing a retirement party at the end of the week, but she’d caught up on all of her current work, days ahead of schedule for once, just in an effort to keep from mooning on about Sebastian’s being out of town. Maybe she’d see if Varric could give her some time behind the bar tonight.

Thinking of that made her think of Sebastian and his plans for the evening at the bar at the Ritz in Val Royeaux. She still couldn’t picture him hitting on women in bars, though she didn’t doubt for a second that he’d be successful

_You would be the only prey that might have me playing that game again._

She grinned suddenly and sitting up, grabbed her phone to pull up the schedule for the shuttle flights to Val Royeaux.

  


Sebastian stifled a yawn as the waiter brought yet another round of drinks, brandy this time, which he could only hope signaled an approaching end to the evening. He could only thank the Maker that Orlais had passed a strict no smoking ban the previous spring or he would have been engulfed in cigar smoke as well. As it was he’d had to listen to both Gaspard and Leopold both go on about the subject at different points in the evening, confirming that fact that neither of them was paying the slightest attention to what the other was saying. As he had predicted the evening had degenerated into a survey of the females present in the bar, and apparently that was a disappointment as well, both in the quality of the females and the fact that none of them seemed in the slightest bit receptive to de Chalons advances. He glanced at Leopold’s receding hairline and Gaspard’s pronounced paunch and wondered if there were changes in his own appearance that he was as oblivious of.

Sebastian hadn’t even looked at the women being discussed. There was only one he wanted to see right now and she was in Kirkwall, no doubt fast asleep by now. He wondered if it would be too selfish if he called and woke her when he got back to his room.

“ _Enfin_!” Gaspard exclaimed, rousing Sebastian from his thoughts. “Finally someone worth pursuing arrives.” 

“I thought you’d just decided the Ritz didn’t attract the same caliber of people it did when we were younger.” Sebastian said dryly not bothering to see who Gaspard was referring to.

“It may have improved actually.” Muttered Leopold. “Merde…” It was a curse of admiration, Sebastian realized, and when he turned to look where both men were staring now, his mouth fell open. 

The woman in question had just slid gracefully onto a barstool. She wore a cocktail dress of black Alençon lace, with delicate cap sleeves, it tied at the base of her slender neck, but that other than that bit of sheer lace, the whole of her back was bare, revealing skin so pale it was almost translucent and looked more so in contrast with the black lace and her flaming red hair that was caught up in a high ponytail but that still fell in smooth curls to below her shoulder blades. She shifted on the stool and crossed her legs, drawing attention to the elegant black stilettos she wore, that were laced around her ankle with black satin ribbons

_Anabel?_ Sebastian was on his feet almost before he realized it, leaving Leopold and Gaspard arguing about who got to make the first move. “Anabel?” He said out loud and reached to touch her arm. He heard Leopold and Gaspard both curse as they realized he had reached her first.

The woman turned and gave him such an affronted look that for a moment Sebastian thought he’d been mistaken. But only for a moment.

“Anabel?” She repeated. She shook her head. “No. Do I know you?” She asked with an arched eyebrow, looking him up and down as thoroughly as Gaspard and Leopold had been her. Before he could respond to her question she’d given an exaggerated sigh. “Is it even possible for a lady to enjoy a drink by herself without men assuming she’s there for another reason entirely?

He had to work not to smile. “My apologies. I mistook you for a friend of mine. Now that I look more closely I can see the resemblance is superficial at best. Perhaps I could buy you a drink to make up for my rudeness?” His blue eyes were twinkling.

She pursed her lips as if considering it. “I never have drinks with strangers.” She informed him, letting just a trace of regret into her voice. She was wearing more makeup than she usually did, her eyes outlined in a smoky shade of forest green that made them seem to almost glow emerald and sapphire in the dim light of the bar, and her lips were painted a rich moist crimson. His eyes lingered there for a moment

“That’s easily remedied.” He told her. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. “Sebastian Vael.” He said, handing it to her.

The rich red mouth went round. “That’s what you did when we met on the Wounded Coast! Was that just one of your moves?” She demanded.

He gave her an innocent look. “I’m sorry?”

She was instantly back in character, laying the card carefully on the bar in front of her and holding out a delicate hand to him. “Cordelia Von Snoot.” She informed him. “Of the Lothering Von Snoots. Perhaps you’ve heard of us?” She asked with a tilt of her head.

It was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud. “Not a word.” He said with a grin. “And are you in Val Royeaux for business or pleasure, Miss Von Snoot?” 

She gave him a coy look through her lashes. “I’m hoping for pleasure, but that very much depends on you, Mr. Vael.”

He raised an eyebrow.“Does it?”

“Mmm. I believe you offered me a drink? A glass of champagne would be lovely.”

Sebastian took a step closer to her, sliding his arms around her waist. The both shivered when his fingers met the bare skin of her back. “It’s Prince actually, not mister, and I happen to have a bottle of champagne on ice in my suite.” He said leaning closer. 

“Oh do you? That’s convenient.” She said.

“Well, no.” He admitted. “But I feel sure I could arrange it.” He bent his head and kissed her on the mouth. 

She didn’t so much kiss him back as melt into his embrace and it was only the drunken hoots and applause from Gaspard and Leopold that made him break the kiss. They were both breathing heavily.

Sebastian ignored the cousins and smoothed her hair away from her face. “What are you doing here?” He asked in wonder.

She smiled happily up at him. “I thought I’d rescue you from your tedious companions and give you the chance to indulge that bar fantasy again. How is it so far?” 

“Far better than I remember.” He informed her, bending and kissing her again, more lightly this time. “I’ll have to wait until morning to give you the final verdict, but so far it’s very promising indeed.”


	13. In which Sebastian realizes that Annie is in fact a terrible driver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> takes place the summer after they've first met

Sebastian blanched as Annie took another hairpin curve, going far too fast and only vaguely staying within her lane. 

She’d asked if she could drive back from his weekend house on the Wounded Coast and, apparently lulled into complacency by the blissful weekend of uninterrupted lovemaking they’d just had there, he’d agreed. He’d thought her friends’ tales of her driving skills, or rather the lack of them, were exaggerated, the way most of their stories tended to be.

They rounded another curve and she actually went off the road this time, onto the shoulder, sending up a spray of gravel and dust. She didn’t seem to notice.

He’d thought the fact that she’d been driving a stick shift that day they’d met, a stick shift attached to an older car, in serious need of some work, had contributed to the accident. 

However the car she was driving now was a mercedes sedan with an automatic transmission, less than six months old and in perfect condition. It drove like a dream. He knew this because it was one of his.

Another hairpin curve, taken so fast that there was actually a screech of tires. A small frown appeared on her face. “Do you smell something burning?” She asked, turning to look at him. 

“It’s nothing to worry about.” He assured her, not wanting her to panic. “Watch the road.”

A moment later she began rummaging in her purse, at first casting quick glances at it, and then, when she apparently couldn’t find what she was looking for, longer looks until she actually wasn’t looking at the road at all.

The car began drifting out of its lane. 

“Eyes on the road, Anabel.” He sounded alarmed even to himself. 

Her eyes shot up and and she quickly corrected her course. “Whoops.” she said, with a laugh.

And he realized he was clutching the door handle so tightly his knuckles were white. 

He saw a sign for a scenic overlook up ahead and pointed to it. “Pull over.” He told her. “Let me drive for a while.” 

She did as he asked, pulling into one of the marked parking spaces (two spaces actually, seeing as the front tires were in one and the rear in another), and turned to him with a happy smile. “That was fun.” She told him.

Sebastian could only stare at her.

It wasn’t the car, or the transmission, or the road. It was her.

As she had told him within days of meeting him, Anabel Hawke was simply an appallingly bad driver. There was no other explanation.

As honest and straightforward as she was, he should have accepted her statement at face value.


	14. In which Sebastian regrets returning to work so soon after the birth of his son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> takes place about 17 months after Sebastian and Annie first meet

Returning to work after the birth of his son was far more difficult than Sebastian had anticipated. He’d known it was difficult for mothers of course…

The casual chauvinism of the thought made him shake his head even as he reached for the phone to call Anabel for the fifth time since he’d arrived at his office scarcely two hours before.

“I’m a little confused as to why you went back to the office today if you were just going to spend your time there calling us.” Anabel said in lieu of a greeting when she answered the phone.

“I’m beginning to wonder that myself.” Sebastian admitted with a rueful smile. “How are you? How’s the little one?” 

“You mean what’s changed in the last twenty-five minutes? Well, he’s walking now of course, and talking. We’ve been discussing colleges. He likes the bigger schools, Kirkwall University, or the University of Orlais, but I don’t think he should discount some of the smaller schools, Redcliffe College maybe. Oh, and he met a lovely girl at the park this morning. I think it might be serious. A spring wedding would be nice.”

“I deserve that I suppose.” He was being ridiculous. He knew that.

“You really don’t have to worry you know. Eat, sleep, poop. Repeat. He’s actually incredibly boring. He did vary it a bit by spitting up on me earlier this morning, but really you haven’t missed anything important. Wait, that’s actually a lie: the rest of his umbilical cord fell off this morning. I forgot to tell you that the last time you called.” 

Sebastian sat up straighter. “The cord fell off?”

“Uh huh. It was gross.” She said with her usual candor. Before Sebastian could say anything more the baby began crying in the background. “Well that’s my cue. If you call in the next twenty minutes and we don’t answer it’s not because anything’s wrong. Since the cord’s gone I thought I’d give him a real bath. Love you. Miss you!” And she hung up before he could say anything more.

She was going to give their son his first bath. And he was going to miss it.

Before the thought had fully formed he was out of his chair and heading towards the door.

“I’ll be back in an hour. “ He informed his secretary without even slowing down. If he walked very quickly he could be back at there in less than fifteen minutes. Less than ten if he ran.


	15. In which Annie teaches Sebastian the proper way to get a Solstice tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> takes place shortly before their first Solstice together

“When are you going to get your tree?” 

Sebastian looked up from his computer where he’d been looking over a rough draft of the 4th quarter report of the Chantry Foundation. Annie was sitting cross-legged in front of the fireplace. She’d moved the screen out of the way and was poking the logs with one of the fireplace tools, making showers of sparks rise up the chimney. It was just something she did. It was a waste of wood, and made a mess of the hearth and he was half-convinced she was going to burn herself or at the very least set the rug on fire at some point but she took such pleasure from it that he never voiced any of these concerns out loud. _I love fireplaces_. She’d sighed happily the first time it had been cold enough to light one in the fireplace in his study. _I love fire. I think I was a pyromaniac in a former life_.

“You mean the Solstice tree?” He asked, just to be sure: one never knew when it came to Miss Anabel Hawke.

“Of course the Solstice tree.” She retorted.

“I believe it’s being delivered and set up one day early next week. I’d have to check my calendar to be certain which.”

She looked puzzled. “When did you go and pick it out?”

“I didn’t. I have a service that does it every year.” He frowned at a figure on the screen and highlighted it making a mental note to ask about it the next day.

“A service?” When he glanced at her she was staring at him.

“Yes. I call them and tell them how large a tree I want and they bring it over and set it up.” He saw her face and began laughing. She looked absolutely horrified. “What?”

“You don’t choose your own Solstice tree? That’s horrible!” 

“It saves me a great deal of time.” He pointed out.

“So does microwave lasagna but you made all sorts of fuss when I tried that. Half the fun of the Solstice is tromping out somewhere and getting the perfect tree and then lugging it back. Arguing about the best way to get it in the house and whether or not it’s straight in the stand and which way to turn it so the weird spot is hidden.”

“The weird spot?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “There’s always a weird spot: where the branches are suddenly shorter, or thinner or where the stem goes wonky.”

“Actually the trees I get are usually perfect.”

“Did you ever check out the side against the wall?” She asked knowingly.

He couldn’t help laughing. “I must confess I haven’t.” He shut his laptop and smiled at her. “What are you doing all the way over there?” He asked. 

Giving him a grin that made his heart swell with happiness, she leapt to her feet and ran to the desk, climbing up on his lap, straddling him, with one leg on either side. She was wearing nothing but one of his chambray shirts and a pair of heavy wool socks that he only wore when he went skiing and which bunched up around her ankles. He should clear a section of his closet so she could keep some clothes here. Not that he didn’t love having her run around like this. He ran his hands up her bare thighs. “Your skin is hot.”

She linked her hands around his neck. “I’ve been sitting in front of an open fire for the past thirty minutes. You aren’t really going to just have a tree delivered are you?”

He reached up and unbuttoned one of her shirt buttons and then leaned forward to press his lips to the skin he’d uncovered. “That is my plan, yes.” He murmured.

“That’s awful.” She muttered as he unfastened another button, and continued his explorations. “The next thing you’re going to tell me is that they decorate it as well.”

He froze with his mouth halfway between her breasts and her navel and looked up at her apologetically.

“No.” She said. “No! You don’t? How can you let someone else decorate your tree?” She demanded. “How do you know where all the important ornaments are?”

She sounded, and looked utterly outraged. 

“I’m almost afraid to tell you this but they choose the ornaments as well.” He confessed.

“WHAT?” She shouted. She scrambled off his lap and glared at him. “They choose the ornaments?”

“They give me a choice of color schemes and such, I select one and…”

“Oh, Sweet Maker.” She said, covering her face with her hands for a moment.

“I assure you, it’s quite common practice. Surely it’s not the end of the world?” 

She dropped her hands from her face. “But what about the important ornaments?” She asked again.

The important ornaments. He gave her a helpless look. “I…”

“The important ones!” She repeated, actually stamping her stockinged foot on the ground. “The ones that mean something. Ones from your childhood, or from places you’ve been, or that remind you of important things that have happened in your life?” 

He had no ornaments like that, and for the first time he felt the lack of them. 

She seemed to have realized what his silence meant because the expression on her face went from pitying, to outraged, to determined all in the space of a few seconds. “Right. First of all, cancel that perfect shiny tree and the robots who were going to decorate it. Next, cancel any plans you have for next Saturday. We’re going up to Sundermount to get a tree for the apartment and you’re coming along as well to get one for here. We’ll need to get a stand as well and some strings of lights. What color do you like?” She asked.

“White?” He suggested.

“Boring. We’ll see what they have. What else do we need…” She said, he suspected to herself, because he suddenly seemed to have very little say in what was going on.

“Important ornaments?” He suggested.

She gave him a withering look. “You can’t just go out and buy important ornaments. They have to be stumbled across, or purchased in the moment.” She sighed. “We’ll have to buy some unimportant ones, I suppose just to fill in.” She gave him a pitying look. “It’s a good thing you met me, Sebastian Vael. You’ve been doing the Solstice wrong for years, I suspect.”

The trip out to Sundermount was typical of excursions with Anabel Hawke and her friends: hectic, frenzied, a bit loud and a great deal of fun. 

Carver and Annie bickered like children, and got into a somewhat ruthless snowball fight after he deliberately let a snow covered branch snap back at her, resulting in a face full of snow. 

Isabela complained of being cold, until Varric, who had also procured a pickup truck large enough to transport the trees back to Kirkwall, offered her a flask which kept her quite content for the rest of the excursion.

Annie and Varric tried to claim the same tree, she for Sebastian’s house, and he for the Hanged Man, which resulted in an impromptu game of ‘vingt-et-un’ right there in the snow. Annie won and crowed triumphantly about it until they returned to Sebastian’s house and got the tree set up, at which point she became convinced that it was Varric’s tree, and not the one she’d rightly won, because it had a definitely weird spot, which, at Sebastian’s suggestion, they turned to the corner before stringing the lights (gold ones – Sebastian had vetoed Annie’s suggestion of purple, refusing to believe that ‘they really look quite lovely when they’re on the tree’).

And on the night before the solstice, Annie gave him his first ‘important’ ornament: a small orangey-red VW bug, with its bumper hanging off.


	16. In which Fenris is the first to make Ellie Vael laugh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place...oh, lets say five years after Sebastian and Annie first meet.

Ellie Vael was a solemn baby, she had been from the moment of her birth. When she was born the nurse had held her up and she’d just looked around the room as if wondering who all these people were, and slowly turning blue. The nurse had had to give her a small smack to get her to take her first breath. 

That wasn’t to say she was a difficult baby, quite the opposite. Everyone who met her said she was the most contented baby they’d ever encountered, and she had the sweetest smile you’d ever seen.

But she was almost five months old now and she had yet to laugh. 

“What if there’s something wrong with her?” Annie asked. 

Ellie was in her high chair. Annie had been trying to feed her rice cereal which seemed as pointless now as it had when she’d tried to feed it to her son when he was that age. She was entirely convinced that rice cereal was just something pediatricians fobbed off on parents who were eager to start their babies on ‘real’ food, just to keep them distracted until the infants were a month or two older and could have the good stuff. Maker knew neither of her children had ever done anything but grab handfuls of it and rub it in their hair. She knew they were done when they started sticking it in their nose or ears.

Sebastian looked up from the paper and smiled at his red-haired daughter. She immediately smiled back at him. “There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s perfect.” 

“Then why isn’t she laughing yet? The beastie boy wasn’t even three months old when he was laughing his head off.” She glanced out at the garden at her son. He was still in his pajamas and happily playing with his trucks on the patio.

“Perhaps you were funnier back then.” Sebastian said, turning the page of his paper

She gave him a withering look. “Oh you’re hilarious. Maybe you should be the one to try and make her laugh.” Ellie chose that moment to stick her cereal covered finger up her nose, and Annie went to the sink and got a paper towel wet for the cleanup

“She’ll laugh in her own time, Anabel.” Sebastian told her. He looked past her and smiled. “Hello, lad.” 

“I want juice.” His son announced.

“I want to be a dragon and have a son who knows how to ask properly for things.” Annie informed him as she took the tray off the highchair and began wiping down her daughter. She always stripped her down to her diaper when she fed her, purely for clean up purposes.

The boy seemed to think about it for a moment. “May I have some juice please, Mummy?” 

“You may. There are juice boxes in the pantry.” Before she could stop her Ellie had reached out and wiped her hands down the front of her mother’s t-shirt. When Annie gave her an exasperated look she smiled and clapped her hands together happily, but she didn’t laugh the way her brother would have. 

The boy was halfway to the pantry when the doorbell rang. “It’s the door!” He shouted. “Someone’s at the door! I’ll get it, I’ll get it!” And he went tearing out of the room, still shouting.

Sebastian was already on his feet following him. “I’ve got it.” 

He returned almost immediately with a smile on his face. “Look who’s turned up at last.” He said, and stepped aside to let Fenris into the room. He’d been away for almost two months, supervising the installation of his sculptures, the first in Orlais, and the second in Par Vollen and then he’d travelled for a time. They hadn’t been sure when he’d be back. Their son was slung over his shoulder and was squirming and laughing.

Annie gave a squeal of happiness that sounded remarkably like the noise her son was making and ran to Fenris stopping short just as she reached him. “I want to hug you but I’m covered in glop!” She settled for pressing a kiss on his cheek. “When did you get back? How did it go?” She reached out and took her son off Fenris’ shoulder. “Don’t say anything, I need to change and this one needs to get dressed and we’ll be right back.” She disappeared from the room before Fenris could even respond.

He smiled at Sebastian. “One would think marriage and two children would have made her less of a whirlwind, but I think the opposite may be true.”

“Yes.” Sebastian agreed. “Nothing seems to slow her down.” He crossed the room to where Ellie sat, still strapped into her highchair, and Fenris followed him. 

“She’s beautiful.” Fenris commented. “She’s grown.” 

Ellie looked up at him unsmiling, with blue eyes identical to her father’s and brother’s. 

“That’s the way of babies.” Sebastian told him. He’d just bent down to unbuckle her when his phone rang. He glanced at the number as he picked it up and frowned before answering it. “Saemus?” He was silent as Saemus spoke for a moment. “No, I’ve got the figures here. Hold on, my laptop’s in my office.” He glanced down at Ellie and hesitated.

“I will watch her.” Fenris informed him. “Go.”

Ellie leaned forwards, watching her father leave and then turned back to stare at Fenris. 

He pulled a chair from the table in front of her and sat. “Your mother and father will return shortly.” He told her.

She tilted her head as if considering carefully what he’d said. 

Fenris couldn’t help smiling. “You’re a solemn little thing. You don’t take after your mother then.” When he’d first met Annie, shortly after leaving Danarius’ ‘organization’ he’d been quite frankly alarmed at how much she laughed and how she didn’t seem to take anything seriously. His first instinct had been to think, another spoiled southerner, not a worry or a care in the world. It wasn’t until later that he’d learned just how many cares she’d dealt with, dealt with and still chosen to laugh and smile. 

Ellie was still staring at him.

“You are what we call in Tevinter a _vetus anima_ – an old soul.” He informed her. “Those beautiful eyes know things already, don’t they?” He reached out his hand and she grabbed hold of his finger, pulling it close. 

She frowned and reached out and touched the tattoos on his arm and looked up at him again. 

“They are tattoos.” Fenris informed her, wondering if she had seen them before. Sebastian’s friends were unlikely to have them, certainly. 

She looked up again at the sound of his voice, still not smiling. Was she unhappy? Would she begin crying? He had no idea how to handle that situation. Hoping to distract her he reached out and took one of her chubby feet in his hand and began reciting a little rhyme that his mother used to say to his sister, one that he didn’t realize he even remembered until now. You went from toe to toe with each phrase and the very last phrase was said in a rush as you tickled your way up the baby’s leg. 

He did just that and as he tickled her Ellie’s whole leg thrashed. She looked up at him and down at her leg, and then up at him, round-eyed. 

Fenris watched her warily wondering if he’d startled her and hoping she wouldn’t begin crying. 

She didn’t. Instead she grinned suddenly and thrashed her leg out again.

He smiled and repeated the rhyme and the tickling and she watched him the whole time. He hesitated a little longer before tickling her this time but when he did she squirmed wildly hunching up her shoulders. Her face go very red and he suddenly realized she wasn’t breathing. He was just getting alarmed when suddenly she let out a stuttering breath.

“Heh, heh, heh.” It was a low rough sound like a small exlplosion.

It stopped and she immediately began thrashing her leg again. 

He repeated it and this time she began laughing before he’d even started tickling. The noise sounded less strained this time, but it still seemed far too low and throaty for a baby until he realized it sounded very much like her mother’s laugh, and that thought made him laugh also. She seemed to find his laughing as entertaining as the tickling and she laughed even louder.

“I don’t believe it!”

Fenris looked up found his friends standing in the doorway. Sebastian was smiling but Annie looked positively outraged.

“Fenris made her laugh for the first time? I’ve been trying to get her to laugh formonths and Fenris just waltzes in and has her laughing in barely two minutes? Fenris? The man who barely cracks a smile once a month?” 

Fenris blinked in surprise. He had been the first to make Ellie laugh? “Perhaps she just has more discerning tastes.” He suggested. 

Sebastian started laughing, and when he started laughing Ellie started laughing as well, and that made Fenris laugh. 

Annie tried to keep from joining in, but couldn’t help herself. She walked over and unbuckled Ellie from the chair, somewhat mollified when her daughter’s arms went around her neck. She pulled back her head to look at her. “Fine.” She told her. “Your first laugh can be for Fenris. But your first word had better be ‘Mama’.”


	17. In which Annie receives much unsolicited advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place about a year after Sebastian and Anabel first meet.

Annie had heard stories about unsolicited baby advice, but she’d thought it wouldn’t start until after the baby had arrived.

She’d been wrong, and some of the advice had come from people she honestly hadn’t been expecting to care one way or another.

“Don’t bother with shoes.” Worthy announced when she went to pick up the car.

“Excuse me?” 

“Babies don’t need shoes until they start to walk. Don’t waste the money. And socks just fall off and then you’ve got lots of little single socks all over the place. Don’t bother with them neither.”

She thanked him warily. As far as she knew Worthy didn’t have any children and she wondered where that knowledge had come from.

“Whatever you do, my dear, if it’s a girl don’t put one of those ridiculous frilly headbands on her. They look hideous, and why the need to label the kid that early on in the first place?” Jethann asked accusingly. She’d run into him as she made her way through the market.

Assuring him that she had no plans to gender the child unnecessarily she went on to meet Varric for lunch at the Hanged Man. 

As she passed Elegant’s shop, Elegant herself came running out after her. 

“Here.” She said pressing a headband made of scraps of velvet and lace and with a large silk flower sewn to it. “I know you don’t know what you’re having yet, but I’m convinced it’s a girl so I whipped this together last night. How beautiful would this look on her? And this way you won’t have to worry about people thinking she’s a boy.”

Annie accepted it with thanks, looking surreptitiously around to make sure Jethann wasn’t watching and continued on her way. 

“My mother put me in a drawer.” Corff announced as she walked up to the bar.

“I’m sorry?”

“You don’t need a crib. My mother emptied out a drawer of her dresser. I slept in there. A crib’s just a waste of good money.”

“Oh.” She said blankly. “I don’t actually have a dresser. Just shelves and some plastic bins. And one of those rods on wheels to hang dresses on.”

Corff frowned at her accusingly. “You should get a dresser.” 

“Hawke!” Varric called across the room, gesturing her over.

She was shaking her head as she walked up.

“Problem?”

“It’s so odd. Now that I’m showing, suddenly everyone is giving me tips about babies and how to take care of them, and not the people you’d think would be doing it. Is that something that happens with everyone, or am I that hopeless a case that everyone is worried I might try to put its pants on over its head? And they keep giving me things, or telling me things I’ll need because that’s how they do it or their families do it or that’s the tradition. I know I should be touched and all, and I am but it’s beginning to aggravate me a little.” She glanced down at the small shopping bag next to Varric’s chair that was liberally festooned with pink and blue curly ribbons. “What’s that?” She asked suspiciously.

Varric laughed uneasily. “What that? Nothing, nothing at all. A gift for a friend.”

Annie gave him a knowing look. “Varric.”

Varric sighed and passed her the bag. “It’s nothing. A toy that we always give in my family when there’s a baby.”

Annie pulled out the small plush stuffed nug and smiled at it. It was perfect: not too big, incredibly soft, no buttons or things that could be chewed off or choked on. “Does that mean I’m family, Varric?” She’d meant to tease but suddenly found herself blinking back tears. “Sorry. Stupid pregnancy hormones.” She grabbed her purse hoping she had some tissues in there but couldn’t see through the mess because of she’d actually started crying, and because crying was such a ridiculous reaction, she started laughing as well. 

Varric pulled out a handkerchief and passed it to her. “If you don’t know the answer to that question already, Hawke, you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

The answer brought on a whole new bout of crying.


	18. In which Sebastian teaches Annie the right way to make macaroni and cheese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place the summer after they begin seeing each other

“No.”

Annie couldn’t help smiling, her dimple dancing at the corner of her mouth. “No?” She repeated. She didn’t think he’d ever flatly refused her anything before, and looking at the grim set of his mouth, she didn’t think he was going to back down from this particular refusal.

“Absolutely not.” Sebastian knew he’d been taking a risk when she’d offered to pick up dinner on her way to his townhouse. He’d been forced to stay late at work, and was going to be doing more work at home at some point in the course of the evening, but he’d assumed she’d pick up some take-out on her way from Lowtown. He never thought she’d actually pick up groceries.

And he’d definitely not thought that boxed macaroni & cheese with dehydrated cheese powder that was somehow expected to miraculously to become cheese again (if indeed it ever had been cheese in the first place) would be on the menu.

Annie couldn’t help laughing. She’d been unpacking the groceries and had handed him the two bright blue boxes with their cheerful yellow writing and he stared at them as if she’d offered him something she’d picked up from the dumpster behind the Hanged Man. He made no move to even touch them. “It’s good!” She promised. “I eat it all the time.” 

Sebastian gave a small shudder, and with a look of distaste took the two boxes from her and tossed them in the wastebin. 

“Hey!” She protested.

“No.” He repeated. “Not in my kitchen. Not ever.”

She sighed. “So if we stay together I’m to abandon all hope of ever eating macaroni & cheese?” She stepped closer sliding her arms around his neck. “This is some kind of test, isn’t it? Like in tales of old where the hero had to sacrifice to win the princess – or prince in this instance.”

“That…” Sebastian said, pointing to the wastebin, before slipping one arm around her slender waist and pulling her close. “…is not macaroni and cheese.” Unable to resist he bent his head and kissed her lightly. 

“It’s the only kind of macaroni and cheese that I’ve ever had.” She tried to pull his head back to hers to kiss him in return, but he’d straightened up to his full height, and if it were possible, looked even more appalled than he had when she’d produced the two boxes. “What?”

“You can’t possibly be serious. You’ve never had real macaroni and cheese before?” She opened her mouth to answer and he interrupted her before she could speak. “No, what is in those boxes is not in any way, shape, or form macaroni and cheese.” He stared at her and shook his head, giving her a pitying look. “Well you’re going to now.” 

It took longer than he’d intended, mostly because he’d tried to enlist her aid at first.

The first roux was burned to almost black instead of the pale brown it should have been, because she’d turned up the flame, ‘so it got done sooner’. 

The second was better, but when they added the milk to make the béchamel sauce it had been ruined because apparently the instruction to ‘pour the hot milk in slowly’ meant ‘dump it all in at once’ so it splashed all over the stove top and what did manage to remain in the pan turned to a lumpy mess.

He did the third on his own, setting her to grating the cheese, aged cheddar and just a touch of gruyère to balance the sharpness, only to discover, when she added it, that she’d grated all of it, wax rind included. 

The fourth was perfect, primarily because he’d picked her up and deposited her on the counter beside him, pouring her a glass of cold white wine, and completing the task himself while she sang softly under her breath, a song that sounded suspiciously like “Bésame Mucho” with the word _béchamel_ substituted.

He added it to the pasta, poured it into a casserole pan and sprinkled the top with freshly made breadcrumbs tossed with a bit of melted butter and rosemary and just a scattering of the remaining grated cheese. He put it in the oven, setting the timer for 30 minutes. When he turned to Annie she looked outraged.

“You mean we can’t eat it yet? If we’d made my macaroni and cheese we could have eaten twenty minutes ago instead of having to wait half an hour.”

He smiled as he took the glass from her hand and put it down beside her, before reaching out and pulling her off the counter, slipping his hands beneath her shapely bottom. Her legs automatically wrapped around his waist and he turned, walking them out of the kitchen. “Yes, but I wouldn’t be able to take you upstairs and make love to you for the next 29 minutes then, would I?” 

She raised an eyebrow. “Only 29 minutes?” She asked dubiously, but he noticed she pressed herself closer. “You don’t have any recipes that would give us more time?”

He tilted his head pretending to give it some thought. “I could make Osso Bucco the next time, if you think you’ve the stamina.” He suggested.

She had no idea what that was but had experienced enough of Sebastian’s cooking to know it would be delicious. “And how long does that take.” She asked as he started up the stairs.

“Two and a half hours.”

Just the thought made her heart race. “I think I’m up for it.” She told him nonchalantly.

His mouth curved into a smile. “Tomorrow night then.”

She leaned forward trailing her lips along his neck as they reached the top of the stairs and entered his bedroom. “And if I do have the stamina?” She whispered in his ear.

He tossed her on to the bed, making her squeal, and then joined her there, unbuttoning the front of the cotton sundress she wore and pressing his lips to the skin he uncovered. “Then I’ll make you a chocolate soufflé for dessert.”


	19. In which Annie has a ball point pen stuck in her hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> takes place a couple of months before Annie meets Sebastian

“Help!” 

Anders looked up from the television with a frown. 

Annie was standing there with an imploring look on her face, her arms raised and her hands in her hair, and her hair….

Was a mess. Roughly half of it was up and roughly half of it was down but not in a way that indicated she’d been attempting any sort of hairstyle. She was fumbling with something at the crown of her head. “Help?” She repeated.

Anders raised an eyebrow. “What’s the problem?” 

“There’s a ballpoint pen stuck in my hair.” She explained.

He couldn’t help letting out a snort of laughter. “And how did you manage that?”

She rolled her eyes as if the answer were obvious. “My hair was getting in the way. The pen was on the table.”

It was a habit of hers. She’d start the day wearing her hair down and then begin some task. Her hair, thick, curly, and almost to her waist, would fall forward and she would impatiently fasten it back; sometimes with a scarf or a ribbon, occasionally with a hair clip, but more often than not she’d grab a pencil, or if she was in the kitchen a wooden chopstick from all the takeout food they ordered, and twist her hair up, skewering it in place without even looking. He’d once actually seen her use a fork, though that hadn’t been terribly successful.

“So what’s the problem?”

She gave him an exasperated look. “It’s stuck! It’s got one of those clippy things, and it got stuck in my hair!”

He pushed himself to his feet. “Clippy things?” He asked with a smirk.

“Clippy things!” She repeated impatiently. “The clippy things that let you clip it onto a notebook or your shirt pocket. The clippy thing! It’s all tangled in my hair. I’m supposed to meet Carver in Hightown in half an hour. We’re supposed to be having dinner with Leandra and the last thing I need is to turn up at her place with a ballpoint pen in my hair!” 

That explained her mood. Only the prospect of an evening with her mother could have produced this level of anxiety. Normally she was as laid back as they came. 

He moved behind her and pushed her hands out of the way. “Maferath’s Balls, Annie. How the void did you manage this?” The pen was buried in a mass of tangled red curls.

“I was trying to get it out!”

“It looks like it’s trying to form a cocoon.” He informed her trying to untangle it. It seemed hopeless.

“Shit. I’m going to have to cut it out aren’t I? Leandra will be thrilled if I turn up with a bald patch. It’ll give her ammunition about my appearance for the next decade. _Remember that time you got a pen tangled in your hair and you had to cut it out?_ ” She said, mimicking her mother’s Hightown drawl perfectly.

“No, hold on. I think if I…” He reached into the snarl and unscrewed the two halves of the pen. He handed her the first half and then tried to untangle the top party – the ‘clippy’ part as she’d called it but was less successful. He stared at it for a moment. It was made of plastic, not metal and maybe. “How attached are you to this pen?” He asked.

She turned and glared at him. “Is that a joke?”

He grinned. “Sorry, unintentional. I meant would you mind if I broke the pen?” 

“If it’ll get it out of my hair you can set fire to it.” She informed him.

“Probably not the wisest course of action.” He commented as he attempted to bend back the clip. It broke with a sharp snap, and he easily freed it from her hair. He handed her both pieces and then returned his hands to her hair.

“That’s all of it, isn’t it?” She asked. She sounded worried.

“That’s all of it. I’m trying to get a knot the size of a small potato undone.” 

She gave a sigh of relief. “Oh good. I thought you might have found something else in there.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if I did. Only you could lose a pen in your hair.”

“I didn’t lose it. I knew exactly where it was. Ow. Careful. It is still attached to my head.” 

“Sorry. All done.” Now that the pen had been removed he found himself distracted by her hair, something that was beginning to happen all too frequently of late. By anyone’s standards her hair was magnificent: thick, curly, every shade of red you could think of at the same time. It was her only indulgence: her clothes came from thrift stores and flea markets, she wore almost no jewelry, her books were bought used. The one thing she spent money on was hair products: all natural shampoos and conditioners and such, that smelled amazing and apparently worked because he’d never felt hair as soft as Annie Hawke’s. He ran his fingers through it again, just to make certain it was tangle free, he told himself.

_Right._

He pulled his hands free. “All done.” 

She turned around to face him, a brilliant smile on her face. “Up? Down? A braid?” She asked.

“Down.” The response was automatic. Down. Down and spread out over his pillow. Down, so he could grab handfuls of it, so he could pull her head back and press his lips to her throat. “Down.” He repeated.

Another brilliant smile and she went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “You’re a lifesaver.” She told him. “I should be back by nine. Have alcohol waiting.” And before he could respond she was gone, leaving him staring at the door.

This had disaster written all over it.


	20. In which Annie tries on Sebastian's clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place about 3 months after they start seeing each other.

Waking up in Sebastian’s king-sized bed with the sunlight gently filtering through the sheer white curtains and with him lying beside her was rapidly becoming one of Annie’s favorite things in the world.

She was lying on her back with Sebastian’s arm across her stomach and his face burrowed up against her shoulder and before she’d even opened her eyes she was smiling. She could quite happily stay like this all day.

Her body had other more pressing needs though. 

She slipped out from under his arm and looked around for something she could slip on to run to the bathroom. 

Usually her clothes or a silk robe that he’d purchased for her use when she stayed over would be lying at the foot of the bed or neatly folded on one of the overstuffed armchairs but today they were nowhere to be seen. It puzzled her for just a second until she remembered the events of the previous evening.

Sebastian been away on business for the first time since they’d finally made love, had been away for more than a week, a week of longing for each other, of aching for touches and caresses and the feel of him thrusting inside her, a week of increasingly erotic phone calls, finally culminating in the one the night before last when he had told her in great detail everything he was going to do to her when they were together again, and which, she’d informed him when she’d caught her breath and been able to speak again, ensured that if ever wanted to change careers he was more than qualified for a job as a phone sex operator. 

He’d flown into Kirkwall the following afternoon and she’d met him at a cocktail party thrown by one of the Chantry Foundation’s most generous donors that he’d had to attend. He’d promised her they would be there for no more than twenty minutes and then Lady Thing-gummy had produced friend after friend, all willing to make their own liberal donations in exchange for the opportunity to be charmed by the former Prince of Starkhaven.

It had been more than an hour before they’d managed to escape, an hour in which they’d exchanged increasingly heated glances across the room, both of them desperate to finally be alone together. 

They’d quickly walked the half dozen blocks through Hightown to Sebastian’s townhome and it was all a bit of a blur after that.

She was fairly certain her dress was somewhere on the staircase leading up to the second floor. Her brassiere hadn’t made it into the bedroom she knew that, and she had no idea where her panties were, though she remembered hearing the fabric tearing at some point and was fairly convinced they were a total loss. 

A slow smile curved her lips. Naked to the bathroom it was then, she decided and slipped out of the bed.

When she’d finished she wandered into the dressing room smiling when she saw the suit and shirt Sebastian had been wearing lying crumpled on the floor of his dressing room. She doubted he’d ever left his clothes lying on the floor overnight and she took perverse pleasure in the fact he’d been so swept up in things that he’d done so this time.

Of course her flea market dresses lying on the stairs was one thing. A custom made Antivan suit that cost the equivalent of six months’ of her rent was quite another and she couldn’t help bending down and picking them up. 

She draped the suit and pants over a chair and then picked up his shirt, also custom made, of a cotton so soft it felt like silk. She hadn’t realized cotton could feel like that until she’d met Sebastian. She rubbed it against her cheek, catching a faint whiff of his cologne, and the soap he used and underneath that just him and before she could quite figure out why she was sliding her arm into the sleeve and slipping the shirt on and it felt as sensual as if it had been silk. No wonder Sebastian didn’t wear undershirts.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the full length mirror as she buttoned it, and almost laughed out loud. The shirt tails came almost to her knees. Still, she thought as she moved closer to the mirror, it wasn’t an entirely unappealing look, She twisted her hair into a knot to get a clearer look, and then impulsively, pulled out the tie rack. 

She’d counted his ties once, curious as to how many ties one had to own to justify having a specially designated section of the closet specifically made just to house them. One hundred and thirty-seven was apparently the answer. She pulled one off, a rather wild paisley in bright blue and green that she didn’t remember seeing him wear, but then again they hadn’t been seeing each other for even close to one hundred and thirty-seven days, so perhaps it just hadn’t entered the rotation yet. 

She tied it and slid the knot up to meet the collar tilting her head as she looked at her reflection, and then on a whim went to where she’d left his jacket and reaching into the inside pocket pulled out his reading glasses. She returned to the mirror and slipped them on, resting them on the tip of her nose.

“Why yes, Lady McSnooty, we’d be verra happy to accept your donation, but if you could find it in your heart to give a wee bit more I can get you a prime table at the Summersday Ball this year. What’s that? Yes, I do think 10,000 sovereigns would guarantee you a table right at the front, and if you threw in another 5,000 I’d be happy to waltz wi’ ye.” 

“That’s quite the worst attempt at a Starkhaven accent I’ve ever heard.” 

She turned to find Sebastian smiling at her from the bedroom door.

An entirely naked Sebastian who was walking towards her.

Or perhaps prowling would be the better word.

“Ah, there you are.” She said exaggerating the accent even more. “What does a man have to do to get a wee dram of coffee around here?”

He was standing in front of her now and her heart was already racing.

He reached down and removed the reading glasses she wore, folding them and carefully placing them on a shelf. “A dram is only used when discussing whiskey. “ He informed her. “Why do I suspect that all your knowledge of Starkhaven vocabulary has been entirely gleaned from bad historical romance novels?”

Before she could answer he’d lifted her up and was walking her back towards the bedroom. Her legs automatically went around his waist. “Dinna fash yourself, laddie, but you seem to have forgotten your clothes this fine morning.” She told him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“On the contrary, for what I have planned this fine morning, my attire, or lack of it rather, is entirely appropriate.” He glanced down at the shirt and tie she wore. “I’m not quite certain about your own attire.”

The dimple flashed at the corner of her mouth. “I rather like it. It has a certain gamine appeal, I thought.” 

To his relief she’d left off the Starkhaven accent. “I can’t say I disagree.” He informed her. “Though I find the idea of taking it off of you even more appealing at the moment.” 

She arched her eyebrow. “Do you now?”

He climbed up on the bed and lay her down, covering her body with his own and brushing a curl off of her cheek. “I do.” He told her. “Though if you’re feeling a wee bit adventurous I might find a use for the tie later on in the day.”


	21. In which Sebastian acquires a kitten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place about four months after Sebastian and Annie begin seeing each other.

Sebastian hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d told Anabel that his relations with his parents were uncomfortable at best. He knew they resented his having renounced his claim on the throne more than a decade before, and he knew they blamed him at least partially for Starkhaven’s decision to do away with the monarchy. He in turn still resented the indifference they shown to him his entire life.

And yet every couple of months he found himself in Orlais making his obligatory visit to them in their mansion just outside Val Royeaux. It was what was expected. He would arrive on Friday evening and stay through the weekend. There would be some sort of gathering, either on Saturday evening, or an early luncheon on Sunday that select friends would be invited to as if witnesses were required to verify that all was well with the Vaels. At no point during the weekend would anything potentially unpleasant or controversial be mentioned.

The topics that could be discussed and still maintain this illusion were limited, of course. The weather was always a safe choice. Art and theatre worked as well, provided nothing modern was mentioned. And asking his mother about her purebred Serehon cat, Duchess never failed to yield at least twenty minutes of enthusiastic conversation.

Duchess was a champion, a show cat who had won a number of titles throughout Thedas. Her kittens fetched what Sebastian considered positively obscene prices, though his mother would have recoiled at the idea that she did it for the money: it was done for the love of the breed. The waiting list for one of Duchess’ offspring was well over eighteen months these days, for the former Princess of Starkhaven was most selective about how often and to whom her darling was bred. Personally, Sebastian thought the cat a spoiled, unappealing, bad tempered animal with its flat face and disdainful attitude, but his mother was more than happy to go on and on about her, so when the conversation lagged late Saturday afternoon bringing up the cat was an almost automatic response.

“Duchess must have had her kittens by now.” The cat had been pregnant during his last visit. “I trust the delivery went well? The kittens must be ready to go to their new homes by now.” He frowned at his father who was gesturing wildly from the sideboard across the room where drinks had been set up.

His mother drew herself up, looking incredibly offended. “I suppose you think that’s funny?” She snapped, and swept out of the room.

Sebastian looked to his father in confusion.

“Didn’t you see me trying to get you to stop talking about that bloody cat?” His father asked in an exasperated tone.

“I don’t understand.”

His father gave a put upon sigh. “Duchess got out of the house last time she was in heat. Your mother thought she’d been found before she got into mischief but when the kittens were born we learned otherwise. We suspect one of the cats down at the stables is to blame. Your mother’s been absolutely beside herself. It’s only one kitten but your mother’s afraid someone will find out.”

Sebastian frowned. “What’s only one kitten?”

“That’s in question. Female cats can be bred by more than one male at a time, you know. Something to do with delayed ovulation or some such thing, I don’t know. It’s your mother’s area of expertise. I told her just hoist the odd one off on somebody and no one will ever know, but you know how she is about bloodlines. Foolish of you to bring it up.”

And how was I supposed to know it wasn’t to be mentioned? Sebastian thought with irritation. There wasn’t any point in saying it out loud. He sighed and pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll go talk to her.”

He found his mother in her dressing room where Duchess’ bed was set up. The creamy white Seheron gave him a disdainful look and began licking one of the three kittens curled up beside her. They seemed perfect replicas their mother. One of them even opened its eyes and gave Sebastian a look identical to the one he’d received from Duchess as if to say, _yes we’ve heard all about you_. 

“Father told me what happened. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You’ve no idea what this will do to Duchess’ reputation.” His mother said, sounding close to tears.

“Are you certain about it? They certainly look purebred.”

“Oh, these probably are. It’s that other one who’s the problem.” His mother gave a small sniff, and Sebastian automatically pulled out his handkerchief and handed to her. She dabbed daintily at her eyes.

“There’s a fourth kitten then?” He asked. 

Before his mother could answer something pounced on Sebastian’s foot and began attacking his shoelaces: a fluffy little bundle of orange and white stripes, not as long haired as its siblings, but not short-haired by any means, and without the flat face that was the defining characteristic of the Seheron breed. He bent to pick it up and it mewed its objections, squirming to get away. He only just managed to hold on to it.

“Now none of that,” He told it, holding it more securely. 

The kitten tilted its head, staring up at him with large round eyes, blue with small flecks of green like its mother’s but the color seemed brighter. It was the only resemblance he spotted before the kitten scrambled out of his hands and onto his shoulder. He winced as it dug its claws in to keep its balance and then immediately made its way across the back of his neck to the opposite shoulder.

His mother gave the kitten a resentful look. “You see? She has no manners at all. She won’t stay in the bed. She’s constantly aggravating Duchess and the other kittens. She’s always jumping out at you or getting into things. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve nearly stepped on her.” 

“She’s certainly a lively little thing.“ Sebastian commented as he carefully removed the kitten from his shoulder, holding it firmly in his hands again. It alternated between biting at his fingers and licking them. 

He reached out and scratched gently along its jaw and a loud purring immediately filled the room.

Sebastian couldn’t help smiling. “She’s rather sweet.” He commented. He’d never thought of himself as a cat person, but there was something about this one.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with her.” His mother lamented. “People can’t find out. My reputation as a breeder would be ruined. Simply ruined. There’s no one here that I trust enough to keep the secret. Johane Harriman would be ecstatic if she found out. She’d shout it to the hilltops.”

And if that didn’t speak volumes about the people his mother called friends he didn’t know what did. 

The kitten was rubbing against his fingers now, her eyes closed, almost vibrating she was purring so vigorously. “I’ll take her if you like.” He heard himself say. 

“You?” His mother couldn’t hide her surprise. 

“I’ll need to purchase some kind of carrying case and make arrangements with the airline, I suppose.” He said almost absently. 

“Oh, Darling! I’m sure I’ve got an extra case somewhere around here and airlines are very accommodating about pets these days. You’ll need other things as well but don’t worry. I’ll take care of it all.” She left the room still talking.

Sebastian shook his head in disbelief. Had he truly just agreed to bring home a kitten? He lifted the animal so it was at face level. “She hasn’t been this happy with me in years, you know.” The kitten just blinked round eyes at him. “Look at you. What on Thedas am I going to do with you? A little bit of red haired fluff with blue-green eyes barges into my life and I lose all sense…” He stopped and stared at the cat and then began to laugh.

The kitten looked quite affronted and that only made Sebastian laugh harder.

Red hair and blue-green eyes and an irrepressible personality constantly getting into mischief.

Apparently he had a type.


	22. In which Annie prepares to meet Sebastian's parents for the first time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> takes place about 8 months after Sebastian and Annie meet

Sebastian had never seen her like this. 

Of course meeting the parents of your significant other was, for anyone, a stressful situation. Meeting those parents on a visit to inform them that you were carrying their future grandchild would only add to that anxiety.

And the fact that he was on less than stellar terms with his parents to begin with wasn’t helping either…

Yes, her anxiety was entirely justified and he hated seeing her like this. 

She’d woken early and immediately disappeared into the bathroom of their suite to shower. Breakfast had arrived by the time she was out, but it took reminding her that she was eating for two now to get her to sit down and eat something. She turned down coffee, in spite of the fact her doctor had told her a cup a day was fine, claiming that she was nervous enough as it was, she wasn’t going to add caffeine into the mix. As soon as she was done she vanished into the second bedroom to dress. 

He showered, shaved, put on a suit and tie, checked and answered his email and she still hadn’t emerged. Anabel Hawke, who rarely took more than twenty minutes to be ready to go run out the door, no matter what the occasion had been getting ready for close to an hour and half.

He crossed to the door and knocked. “Anabel?”

After a moment of hesitation she replied, “It’s open. Come in.”

The room looked like a small tornado had gone through it. Clothes and shoes were strewn everywhere; on the bed, the floor, the chairs. Anabel was standing in front of the floor length mirror, looking at herself with a small frown on her face. She turned to face him as he walked in. “Will I do?” She asked.

And for a moment he was completely lost as to what to say. 

She looked beautiful of course. She always looked beautiful, but…

She was wearing beige. Beige skirt. Beige sweater. Beige shoes. Beige lipstick even, and beige nails. The only color was her bright red hair and even that she’d straightened and put up in a twist so tight and smooth that not a single curl escaped it. Her only jewelry was a single strand of pearls. There was nothing wrong with the outfit. It was elegantly proper, and conservative enough that even his mother would be unable to find fault with it.

It was in fact just his mother’s style.

A worried wrinkle appeared between Anabel’s brows and he realized he taken too long to answer. “Turn around for me.” He told her.

She did as he asked, and when her back was to him he smiled. What he’d thought was a crew neck sweater was in fact a cardigan that she was wearing backwards, the buttons in a perfect line down her spine. So Annie Hawke was still in there somewhere. 

When she’d finished turning and was facing him again he slipped his arms around her. “You look beautiful, and it’s a perfectly proper outfit, one you’ll see a dozen times over at bridge parties and junior league meetings, but I’m not convinced it’s entirely you.”

She groaned and leaned her head against his chest. “It’s not. I feel like I’m wearing a costume. A boring, bland, beige costume. A ‘look I can fit in even though your son knocked me up and now you’re stuck with me’ costume. And I can’t even change into something else because everything I brought is boring too.” 

But Sebastian had already spied something tossed on the floor by the bed: a pair of scarlet suede three and a half inch heeled pumps. He crossed the room and picked them up, and when he returned knelt in front of her slipping the beige pumps off and sliding the red ones on. 

She tottered as he did and reached out one hand to grab his shoulder and when she did he looked up at her with a smile that took her breath away. Some of the anxiety that had been gnawing away at her all morning disappeared. 

His smile changed to a slightly teasing one and he slid one hand slowly up her leg, pausing when he reached the edge of her stocking. She breathed in sharply as his fingers traced along the edge until they came to the clip of her garter belt. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Not quite so proper as all this beige would suggest then.” He commented.

A hint of color stained her cheeks. “That can hardly be a surprise after all these months. Care to guess the color of my underthings?” She asked innocently.

There was a sparkle in her eyes that had been missing all morning, he noted with relief. “Not just yet.” He told her. “I’d like to think about it for a while, if I may.” His hand was still under her skirt and as he slid it free he gently raked his nails against her skin, making her shiver.

“Fair enough.” She replied breathlessly. 

The plain pearls were replaced with a multi-strand necklace of fake baroque pearls and bronze metal, vaguely medieval looking, that she’d picked up at the Lowtown market a few Sundays before. Her hair was unpinned, and left in loose waves down her back. 

Sitting at the dressing table, she grabbed a tissue and wiped the beige lipstick off and after rooting about in her makeup bag pulled out a lipstick and pulled off the cover revealing a color as scarlet a red as her shoes. She leaned towards the mirror and pursed her lips to apply it.

“Wait.” 

She turned to Sebastian a puzzled look. 

He knelt in front of her putting them at eye level. “I want to kiss you before you put that on.”

She tilted her head as if considering and then laughing, leaned forward, brushing her lips against his. Before she could pull away, he’d slipped his hands into her hair and pulled her back, deepening the kiss, making it something insistent, demanding, something she couldn’t help responding to, with teeth and tongues, wrapping her arms around his neck and dimly hearing the lipstick she’d been holding fall to the floor. 

When he pulled back they were both breathing heavily. 

She tried to speak and had to pause to run her tongue over her lips. “I don’t suppose we have a spare twenty minutes or so before we have to leave, do we? Because if we do I have the perfect idea of what to do to fill the time.” 

He bent and picked up the fallen lipstick. “I’m afraid not. The car should be here any minute.”

“A shame.” She said with a teasing smile. She reached for the lipstick, but he pulled his hand back.

“Let me.” He said,

She arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes.” He couldn’t have said why he wanted to do it, but the idea of it suddenly seemed unbearably erotic. And it was. Her lips were already redder from his kiss, but running that scarlet color over them, a color that made them redder, and fuller, made him remember every touch of those lips on his mouth and body. She was watching him, and the expression in those blue-green eyes made him think that she was thinking of it as well. It was one of the most sensual things he’d ever experienced. When he’d finished he had to fight with himself not to kiss her again, not to pick her up and carry her to the bed, and lunch with his parents be damned.

Luckily (or unluckily) for him the phone rang at that moment, letting them know their car was ready.

She was much more relaxed as they drove to the outskirts of Val Royeaux, and he pointed out various landmarks to her. It was only as they pulled up to his parents’ imposing chateau that he saw her tense up again. 

He let himself out and walked around the car to where the chauffeur was helping her out and took her hand in his, leading her to the front door, raising the knocker and rapping twice.

Her hand tightened around his and he could feel her palms sweating.

“What do I get if I guess the color of your underthings correctly?” He asked suddenly.

She stared up at him in surprise but he was looking straight ahead at the door. A smile curved her lips. “You get to take them off me.” She informed him. 

He turned his head to look at her, giving her a smile that both teased and promised. “Red.” He said simply.

Her dimple danced at the corner of her mouth. “You win.” 

“Good.” He told her. “I intend to collect on that bet as soon as we return to the hotel.” 

And suddenly the luncheon ahead didn’t seem nearly as intimidating. All she’d have to do if it got too bad was think about what they had planned for after lunch.


	23. In which Sebastian and Annie are sleep deprived

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> takes place a few weeks after the birth of Sebastian and Annie's son

Coffee first thing in the morning had been part of Sebastian’sroutine since midway through his undergraduate studies when he’d turned overthat new leaf and transferred to Kirkwall University, but though he enjoyed his coffee he’d never needed it the way some people claimed to and had, he was forced to admit, always felt a bit superior to those who did.

The arrival of his son had changed all of that. Things had been fine for the first few weeks – fine being a relative term of course. With a newborn it meant sleep interrupted every three or four hours, but while it was an adjustment, he and Annie had been adjusting just fine.

And then one night they simply couldn’t get the baby to stop crying. It went on for over two hours before he’d finally exhausted himself and fallen asleep. And then it kept happening. Worried something was horribly wrong they’d whisked him to the pediatrician.

Colic. 

_What can we do about it? What causes it?_ Sebastian had asked.

The doctor hadn’t quite shrugged but it had been close. “We don’t know what causes it. He may be a bit gassy and we can give him something for that.”

_So it’s caused by the gas, then?_

“It’s probably more likely that the gas is caused by the crying – swallowing extra air, you know. Most babies get over it by the time they’re three or four months old.” 

And armed with that particularly unhelpful statement they’d returned home. 

They took turns walking with him at night. Coffee became absolutely vital in the morning if Sebastian had any hopes of functioning normally at the office. 

After one particularly rough night when no one had slept from 3:30 until 6:00 when the baby had finally fallen asleep, he and Annie had staggered down to the kitchen and without speaking added water, and ground coffee to the machine and stood there hovering in front of it, waiting desperately for the beep that would let them know it was ready. 

Annie glanced over at Sebastian and suddenly started laughing. 

Sebastian was so tired he could only stare at her in confusion. 

“I’m sorry.” She said trying to apologize. “It’s just…I never thought when I first met you that I would ever see you looking like this. I didn’t think it was possible for you to look like this. “ 

“Am I that bad?” He asked with a rueful smile.

In answer, she steered him out of the kitchen to the hallway by the front door where there was a mirror hanging on the wall. Sebastian stared at his reflection. 

He was wearing a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt. The t-shirt was liberally decorated with tears, snot, and spit up milk. His hair was going in about six different directions, including one piece that stuck straight up. He had circles under his eyes, which were barely open. 

He hadn’t looked bad since…no, he was forced to admit. Even hungover after one of his wild parties he hadn’t looked this bad. 

Anabel’s arms slipped around his waist. “I’m sorry we’ve done this to you.” She told him. She looked just as tired, wearing a button front cotton nightgown as stained as his t-shirt, her hair none too neatly tied back to get it out of the reach of the baby’s small hands, but for the first time in a long time there was a twinkle in her eyes, and a glimpse of her dimple by the corner of her mouth. 

He bent his head and kissed her. “I’m not. Not a bit.” 

She rested her head against his chest, yawning. “You’re obviously insane then.” She informed him.

He opened his mouth to reply and was interrupted by the coffee maker beeping in the kitchen. “Obviously. But we can discuss it over coffee.” He informed her, putting his hand to the small of her back and guiding her back into the kitchen.


	24. In which Annie takes Sebastian sledding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> takes place during their first shared snowfall

Sebastian Vael had never been terribly enthusiastic about winter.

Oh he didn’t mind it really; he enjoyed skiing and he enjoyed the Solstice season as much as anyone else, but had he been given a choice of seasons to eliminate it would have been winter. 

Cold and snow and ice and then the inevitable dirty snow and slush and whatever that chemicals they used to melt the stuff was, everywhere, on sidewalks and curbs, and being tracked into buildings. The icy wind coming off the Waking Sea that would whip around corners with such ferocity that it made it difficult to breath. The shorter days, and being constantly cooped up inside at the mercy of the weather... 

Quite honestly he was usually ready for winter to be over a week into the New Year.

Not Annie, he discovered.

They’d spent the day in Lowtown.

Well, to be more precise they’d spent the day in her apartment, and to be perfectly accurate they’d spent the day in her bed in her attic bedroom in her apartment. That hadn’t been the plan. They'd intended to go out for lunch to that new Antivan place that had opened down by the Docks and then to head to the revival movie house near the University which was running a retrospective of Orlesian cinema.

But by some miracle she had the apartment to herself. 

In the six months he’d know her that had never happened. One of her roommates was always around. Not today.

Isabela, who apparently shared his antipathy for the season, had gone off to Antiva. No one was quite certain when she was expected back. Carver had taken Merrill up to Sundermount to see her foster mother for the weekend. Anders was at some medical convention in Ostwick.

Sebastian and Annie had never made it out of the apartment. 

When Sebastian opened his eyes it was dark outside. He peered at his watch. Nine o’clock at night. He couldn’t help smiling. The whole day gone. He turned his head to look at Anabel, lying on her stomach beside him. The cover, some wildly colored velvet patchwork quilt she’d found at a flea market had slipped down to her hips, and her red curls fanned out around her. 

He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so beautiful, but he thought that almost every time he looked at her. Six months together and he was as entranced as had been when he’d first met her. He was realizing that wasn’t going to change and that he had no desire to have it change, and no desire to be without her.

He had plans in the works to ensure that wouldn’t happen, and he was fairly certain she would say yes when the moment came.

A sudden gust of wind rattled the attic window and Sebastian lifted his head, wondering if the snow the weatherman had been promising had actually materialized. He pushed himself up right and moved to the window.

_Holy Maker_.

“Come back to bed.” Annie said sleepily. “It’s too early to get up.” 

He glanced over at her. “It’s nine o’clock at night.” He said with a smile.

“Then it’s too late to get up.” She raised her head, turning it so she could look at him. “You aren’t going to go back to your place are you?”

“I don’t think I could if I wanted to. It’s snowing.”

She immediately sat upright. “Is it sticking?” She asked excitedly.

“You might say that.” He said wryly.

She sat up eagerly, pulling the quilt around her and joining him at the window. “Ohhh.” She sighed happily. 

Lowtown was blanketed in snow, a good six inches or more, and it was still coming down, big fat flakes, so heavily you could only just make out the market. 

Annie turned to Sebastian with shining eyes. “We should go sledding!” 

He laughed thinking she was joking and stopped at the expression on her face. “You’re serious?”

She was already climbing out of the bed. “It’s perfect right now. Snow like this never lasts in Kirkwall.” 

“Is there even a place in Kirkwall to go sledding?” He asked, watching as she opened drawers, pulling out various pieces of clothing. As far as he knew the only large enough parks were in Hightown and there were no hills in Hightown.

She was pulling on a pair of thick woolen socks. “The stairs down to the Docks. They never shovel them until morning and with this much snow they’ll be completely covered.”

He watched bemused as she pulled on a camisole and then some jeans nearly tripping as she yanked them on. “You want to go sledding down a flight of stairs?” He asked dubiously.

“Don’t you?” She seemed so surprised at the possibility that he found himself agreeing to the plan. 

She raided Carver’s closet for some warmer clothes for him, including a Kirkwall University sweatshirt and a navy blue knit beanie, which she put on his head and then laughed. 

“Sebastian Vael in a beanie and a sweatshirt.” She shook her head. “I never thought I’d see it.”

“Is it that bad?” He asked.

“You look wonderful.” She assured. Of course he could probably wear a paper hat made of a newspaper and still look stunning. She dove into the closet and reemerged holding two plastic cafeteria trays.

Sebastian looked puzzled. “What are those for?” He asked.

Annie grinned up at him. “These are our sleds.”

He looked at them and then back at her and raised an eyebrow. “We’re going sledding on stolen cafeteria trays?”

She looked offended. “Who says they’re stolen?” 

He couldn’t help laughing. “The fact they’re stenciled with “property of the Kirkwall University Dining Center, please do not remove from the premises’?”

She flipped the tray over and read the back. “Oh. Well I’ve had them at least three years. I’m sure the statute of limitations on stolen trays has expired by now. They make perfect sleds.” She informed him. “You can go really fast.”

He was sure you could. No doubt right into the dumpsters that were lined up at the bottom of the staircase she intended to sled down. 

She could see him wavering and slid her arms around his waist. “Come on. You’ll love it. And we can have hot chocolate when we get back. I’ve got the good stuff with marshmallows.”

He pulled her closer. “Instant hot chocolate mix, with dehydrated marshmallows, I suppose.” He adored her, but she had the most appalling taste in food.

Her dimple danced merrily at the corner of her mouth. “Just add boiling water.” She laughed when he groaned. “I have whipped cream if that helps.”

“Is it actual cream or that revolting non-dairy dessert topping?” He asked

She seemed to give it some thought. “I’m not sure. The can is blue, I think, if that helps.”

“It does not.” He gave a resigned sigh. “Very well. Let’s go sledding then, on stolen trays and afterwards, if we haven’t broken our necks, we can have some revolting reconstituted hot chocolate beverage topped with something that may or not be cream out of a blue can.” 

She wound her arms around his neck and gave him a lingering kiss. “Thank you. It’ll be fun, I promise. And if the whipped cream’s no good on the hot chocolate maybe it will be better licked off of something else.” She said with a suggestive look.

And when Sebastian woke the next morning, with a bruised shoulder from banging into a dumpster, and a bruised knee from slipping while climbing back up the stairs and feeling vaguely unwell from the sheer amount of whipped cream he'd ingested, he had to admit she’d been right.

It had been fun.


	25. in which Annie helps Anders celebrate his birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place on Anders first birthday after he moves into the apartment

Anders had arranged to be on call that night specifically because he didn’t want any sort of birthday celebration. He hadn’t even told anyone it was his birthday. Holy Maker, what the void was there to celebrate?

Thirty years old. Career ruined. Two careers if you considered he’d given up being a lawyer, become a doctor and then screwed up that as well, though to be honest Velanna had a lot to do with that disaster. And of course thinking of Velanna led to the next failure, his marriage, which had lasted less than a year and the subsequent divorce proceedings, which had lasted longer than the marriage and had resulted in the final failure, Velanna managing to get most of their shared assets, in spite of the fact her current salary was almost triple his.

Well, the next year could hardly be worse than this one, he thought, loathing how much self-pity there was in the statement.

He watched the clock flip over to midnight.

_Happy Birthday to me._ He let his head drop onto his desk with a thud. Andraste’s tits, could he be more of a loser?

The overhead light suddenly went out leaving the room illuminated only by his computer screen. He lifted his head with a scowl.

“Happy Birthday.”

He turned to find Annie standing there, holding a cupcake with a single lit candle stuck into the bright blue frosting that topped it.

He could only stare at her.

Her hair was in a messy braid, she was wearing torn jeans with a plaid flannel shirt that must have been Carver’s as it came almost to her knees, a baggy worn grey cardigan and a ridiculous pair of long haired sheepskin boots in a bright turquoise. He didn’t know where she found the things she wore. She looked like a ragamuffin, like she’d dressed from a lost and found bin in a laundromat.

She looked beautiful.

When he didn’t speak she raised an eyebrow. “Here’s the part where you say ‘thank you’ and blow out the candle.”

He frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to wish you a happy birthday. It’s started to snow. Lowtown looks almost pretty.”

It was only then he noticed the rapidly melting flakes on her hair and sweater. “You walked through Lowtown to the clinic at midnight.? Do you have a deathwish?” Andraste’s ass the girl thought she was invulnerable.

“Lowtown’s not nearly as dangerous as people say.” She insisted. She thrust the cupcake towards him.

“And you’re basing that on what?”

“My powers of observation.” She informed him. “Come on. Make a wish.”

“Why aren’t you wearing a coat, if it’s snowing?” He’d never seen her wearing one, he realized, and they were barely a month away from the Solstice.

“I’ve got to buy one. I’m still waiting for that awful De Launcet woman to pay me for that birthday party I photographed. Come on, the wax is melting all over the frosting.”

He leaned forwards to blow it out.

“Don’t forget your wish!” She exclaimed. “Maker, didn’t anyone ever teach you how to do this?”

He couldn’t help smiling. Sometimes she seemed far older than her twenty years and other times she was such a child. Birthday wishes. Ridiculous. He couldn’t even think of anything to wish for.

_Love_. It popped into his mind without thinking, and to his surprise he realized it was true. Oh not a mad passionate romantic love. Something steady and constant, secure and dependable. Family. Belonging. All those impossible unachievable things.

_Well why not wish for them on a birthday candle then_ , he thought, and blew it out. Annie reached up and turned the light back on. “How’d you even know it was my birthday?” He asked her

“I went through your wallet and looked at your driver’s license.” She told him unrepentantly.

Anders tried to summon the proper outrage and found he couldn’t. “Some might consider that a gross invasion of privacy.”

She just grinned. “But not you, right?” She looked down at the cupcake. “You going to eat this thing or what? The wish doesn’t come true unless you eat the cupcake, you know.”

“Stop making things up.” He told her. He eyed the cupcake. It seemed strangely flat on top, lacking the domed shape of most cupcakes, and the frosting was truly an alarming shade of blue. “Where’d you get this cupcake?” He asked suspiciously.

She rolled her eyes. “I baked it.”

Oh Maker no. “You baked it? All by yourself?” He asked just to be sure.

She started laughing. “Oh, come on. I used a mix and canned frosting. All I had to do was add oil and water and eggs and I’m pretty sure I got most of the eggshell out. And this one’s hardly burnt at all.”

He looked unconvinced. “And you used vegetable oil, not the chili oil?”

She scowled at him. “That was one time.”

“And a measuring cup, not just whatever cup you grabbed out of the cabinet?”

“In my defense they don’t make that clear at all in the cookbooks.” She insisted.

He was grinning now. “You used food coloring to make the frosting blue, right? Not paint or anything?”

Her eyes narrowed.. “Eat the damned cupcake, Anders.”

He laughed and took it from her, raising his eyes and mouthing a silent prayer, and laughing again when she punched his arm lightly for doing so. He peeled back the wrapper and took a bite.

Huh. It wasn’t bad, actually

She was watching him carefully and smiled happily when she saw his expression. “See? Not such a disaster in the kitchen after all.”

He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “Not bad at all.”

The fact that he had someone in his life who cared enough to find out his birthday, bake him a cupcake and trudge through Lowtown in the snow to deliver it more than made up for the quarter sized piece of eggshell he’d just chewed and swallowed.

Maybe this next year really would be better.


	26. In which Isabela drags Annie out for one last night of fun before the baby's born

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> takes place when Annie is about 5 months pregnant

It had sounded like a good idea earlier in the evening. 

“A girls’ night.” Isabela had said. “In a few months all you’ll be thinking about is nappies and naps. This could be the last chance you have a night on the town. Prince Charming is away, so it’s not like you have a better offer.”

Why not? She’d thought, thinking they’d start at the Hanged Man and maybe hit a couple of other bars, and then she could cry off early and go home crawl into bed.

But here it was, well after two in the morning and she was sitting at a very grimy table in a new club called “The Compound”, located in a highly questionable area of the Docks. Isabela had disappeared about half an hour ago. Merrill was sleeping or passed out with her head on the table and she was stuck there trying to ignore the building headache from the combination of the flashing lights and the music that was so loud all you could truly hear of it was the thundering bassline. 

And all she really wanted to do was go to sleep. She wondered if it were being pregnant and exhausted or the fact that she hadn’t been drinking that had made the evening so less than enjoyable.

Even if she could leave Merrill alone at the table, there wasn’t a chance she’d find a taxi down here. She was going to murder Isabela. Sebastian was out of town. Anders was on call. Fenris didn’t have a phone. She could call Varric, but it was Saturday night and he didn’t like to leave the Hanged Man to Corff’s management on Saturday nights.

That left only Aveline.

Maker, she really didn’t want to have to call Aveline, she thought as she pulled out her phone, imagining the lecture she was about to get. The only bright spot was that Aveline didn’t yet know she was pregnant.

That was going to be a whole other lecture.

She looked at the screen of her phone. Seven missed calls. How was that even possible? She unlocked the screen and looked at the icons next to the numbers. One orange tabby. Anders. Six closeups of the bluest eye she’d ever seen. Sebastian? Sweet Andraste, something awful must have happened. She quickly dialed Sebastian’s number. 

He picked up on the first ring. “Anabel?”

“What’s happened?” she demanded. She heard Anders in the background demanding to know if it was her, and Fenris wanting to know if she was all right.

“What’s happened?” He repeated. ”I came home early and you were nowhere to be found? I’ve been dialing your mobile for hours. Where the Void are you?” She’d never heard him this upset.

“At a club in the Docks?" She offered. "I can’t find Isabela." 

"Yes." Said Sebastian. "That may be because she walked into your apartment fifteen minutes ago with a new friend." He said, glaring at the woman and her less than sober companion whom Isabela had introduced as ’ _A very pretty sailor from Llomerryn whose name escapes me at the moment_.’ 

"You’re at my apartment?”

“Not for long." He told her, opening the door and gesturing for Isabela to precede him out. "Isabela and I are on our way to pick you up.”

“Oh, thank the Maker. Sebastian?”

“Yes?”

“It’s not a very nice place. You might want to bring Fenris along as well.”

She pulled the phone away from her ear as he let out a string of curses that she could hear even over the music in the club.


	27. in which Annie introduces Sebastian to her favorite bookshop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small tribute to Magnus’ Wares, that “store” that just pops up near what was the Tal Vashoth cave on the Wounded Coast with the owner who inexplicably hangs out there for more than three years.
> 
> Takes place their first summer together.

Sebastian had driven by the building a hundred times before while going to and from his weekend house on the Wounded Coast and never spared it more then a moment’s thought. Frankly he’d thought it was deserted, a rather ramshackle wooden building, a small two story cottage, painted white, with faded blue trim, that had seen far better days. 

So he was understandably startled when on a trip back into Kirkwall on a Sunday afternoon, Annie suddenly sat up and announced in an excited voice. “It’s open. It’s open! Stop! Stop!” 

Startled by the reaction he pulled over and before he could even turn and ask her what was open, she’d jumped out of the car and run over to the door, which, as she had said, had a rather faded, sign that read “OPEN” that hung crookedly from the doorknob. 

She had her hand on the doorknob by the time he caught up with her. 

“Anabel, what is this place.”

She turned to him, eyes alight with excitement. “It’s a bookstore.” 

Before he had time to question the claim she’d pushed open the door and walked in.

“Magnus?" She called out. "It’s Annie." 

Sebastian followed her in. There was a staircase to the right, and a larger parlor to the left and a hallway straight ahead, and books everywhere one looked: on the stairs, lining the hall, on the floor, and the end tables, on the armchairs and the sofa, even piled in the fireplace. 

His first thought was if a fire marshal were ever to set foot in the place it would be immediately shut down. 

His second thought was, was that a leatherbound edition of Philliam’s _From The Champion: History, Ancient and Current_ , and Maker, how old was it? 

He pulled it out from one of the stacks by the hearth, marveling at the excellent condition it was in and missed the satisfied smile on Annie’s face when she saw how engrossed he was in his find. 

"Magnus!" She called out again heading towards the back rooms pausing to examine the odd volume and to take one or two of those with her.. 

When Sebastian remembered himself, he went looking for her. She was sitting at a small formica table in the kitchen writing a note. She had a stack of half a dozen books beside her. She smiled up at him as he came in. “Did you find something good?” 

"I did." He said, sounding surprised. He held up the volume of Philliam. "Do you have any idea what this is worth?" 

"I’m guessing a pretty penny, from your reaction. Magnus doesn’t seem to be here which is a shame. You’d like him I think." 

"How did you even find this place?”

She shrugged. “I was driving by and there was a sign that said ‘open’. I wanted to see what it was so I stopped and walked in. It was one the best decisions I ever made.” She glanced at Sebastian and he was shaking his head. “What?”

“I’m constantly amazed that you’ve managed to survive to the age of twenty-three given some of the decisions you make.”

She gave him a puzzled look and decided to ignore the statement. “Magnus travels a lot, and accumulates books and then comes back and drops them off. He’ll be open for a week or two, though you never know quite what hours he’ll keep, and then he disappears again to replenish the supply. Like he’s magic or something. Isn’t it marvelous? Do you want to get that one?” She said gesturing to the book he held.

“I do indeed." Said Sebastian still trying to get his head around a place of business that was run in such a haphazard manner. "But this Magnus isn’t here, and there’s no price on it.”

“Just leave him what you think it’s worth.” Said Annie as if the answer were obvious. “I do it all the time. He’ll take a check." 

He gave her a dubious look. “You mean just give him what I think is fair and make the check out to simply ‘Magnus’?”

She just grinned. “Sure. I’m actually a bit short on this lot, so I’m just writing him a note to let him know I’ll drop it off next week. I’ll add that you’re a friend of mine and your check is good.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And if he isn’t here next week?”

"I’ll just slip it through the mail slot." She looked around with a sigh. "It’s a shame we’ve got that dinner. I could spend hours here." 

He bent and kissed the top of her head before straightening up and pulling out his checkbook. “We’ll just have to stop by another time.” He told her.


	28. In which Sebastian's fetish is showing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in the first few months of their relationship

There’ve been a lot of heels clacking through Sebastian’s townhouse over the years, on the slate in the kitchen or the tile in the bathrooms and the entry, over the hardwood floors.

He doesn’t think he’s ever had someone in bare feet. 

Annie Hawke slips her shoes off the minute she steps in the doorway. She’s done it since the first time he brought her here. And slips them off is the right word: all of her shoes are easy to remove, so easy that she seems to do it as she walks through the door. 

And then she proceeds through the house making barely a sound. 

It makes him feel as if he has a visiting fairy or sprite. Some sort of slightly wild untamed creature, entirely different from the women he’s been involved with before, Hightown ladies who were all high fashion and higher heels. 

Not Annie. 

And her feet are as perfect as the rest of her. Fine boned, with high arches, and even her toes are flawless, even painted a dark metallic blue green as they are now.

He’s always had a thing for feet. Not a fetish, not quite, but he’d admit that a perfect foot, and Annie’s feet are perfect, was as arousing to him as perfect breasts or a perfectly curved bottom. She has both of those as well of course… 

But it’s only her feet she seems to flaunt.

Which is ridiculous of course, because how could she know about his predilection for feet? 

It’s late afternoon, they’ve spent the day prowling through bookstores in Hightown and she’s sitting in one of the leather armchairs in his study reading a recently published history of the Llomeryn Accords, 800 pages long and as dense a historical tome as he’s ever seen even in his days at university and she’s utterly absorbed in it. She has one leg drawn up, and one on the floor. She keeps sliding that foot backwards and forwards, digging her toes into the edge of the thick area rug. 

He’s sitting at his desk, the business section of the Sunday paper spread out in front of him, supposedly reading an article about the latest trade agreement with Orzammar and the predicted effect on the Dwarven Merchant’s Guild’s lending rates. He couldn’t have explained a thing about it if asked. 

He’s beginning to wonder why he’s even pretending to read the article when she’s sitting right there,

She looks up as he pushes his chair back and crosses to her. She looks puzzled when he drops to the ground in front of her chair. When he lifts the foot that’s been taunting him for the last quarter of an hour between his hands, she looks wary. 

“Something I can help you with?” She asks.

He examines her foot carefully. He’s never actually indulged his preoccupation with them before. They’re just as perfect close up. Even with that nail polish. “What’s the name of this color?" He asks looking up at her. She always knows the name, insists that the ridiculous names are half the fun of buying nail polish. He runs his hand along the arch of her foot and she gives a little shiver.

_Interesting._

"Siren’s Call.”

He can’t help laughing. “Fitting." He tells her. He bends his head and kisses the top of her foot. He glances up to see her reaction and she’s caught her lower lip between her teeth. She still looks wary but there’s something else in her eyes now. 

Interesting, he thinks again. He lets his lips travel to the arch of her foot and notices that she’s gripping the armrest of the chair quite tightly. He rakes his teeth along the arch and she positively squirms, throwing her head back.

_Very interesting._

"You have sensitive feet." He comments.

Her cheeks turn pink. "I know. It’s weird, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Is it that you’re ticklish?" He asks carefully.

"No. I just like having my feet touched." Her cheeks turn even pinker and she hides her face in her hands. "It’s so weird. I’m obviously a closet pervert or something.” And then she almost arches off the chair when he sucks on one of her toes. When she looks down his brilliant blue eyes seem to glow as he looks back at her, and he’s smiling for some reason, in spite of her weird foot thing

“No." He says simply. "You’re perfect.”


	29. In which a young Annie Hawke struggles with puberty

For a while Annie Hawke thought puberty was just going to pass her by. 

She doesn’t get any taller. She doesn’t get any curvier. She doesn’t get boobs, or her period.

Bethany actually get it before she does, along with the boobs and the curves and the height. There’s less than a year’s difference in their ages, and Da assures her there’s nothing abnormal about that, that there’s no timetable for it. 

“You talk to your Dad about it?" Peaches shrieks in horror when Annie responds to one of her snide comments about how hard it must be to be Bethany’s sister when she’s so pretty and Annie, well….

Annie’s perplexed by the reaction. “He’s a doctor, and he’s my Da. Why wouldn’t I?”

"Gross!" shouts Peaches and rushes off, delighted to have another story about that strange Annie Hawke to share with the other girls.

Annie just shrugs. It’s not like she could ask Leandra any of the questions she has. She’d tried when she was about ten, more out of curiousity than anything else and Leandra had turned a beet red, changed the subject and then the next day mutely handed her a book titled “What’s Happening to My Body?” with impossibly perky cartoon girls decorating the cover and scattered about inside. 

Annie always thought the title made it sound like you were being invaded by aliens or a parasite or something. She read it of course, but it was so wrapped up in euphemisms and repeated statements about the joy of being a woman that she hadn’t gotten much out of it. 

Da she can ask anything about it, and he doesn’t blush or flinch or say he doesn’t know. He’s as matter of fact as he always is, pulling out anatomy books and drawing diagrams and telling her that yes, her emotions may be a bit of a roller coaster but they’ll settle down eventually, but just because they were fueled by an influx of hormones it didn’t make them any less valid. ”Just try not to get into too many arguments with your mother and go easy on Carver. He’s got his own influx of hormones to deal with.” 

And yes there are a few shouting matches and surprising instances of bursting into tears over what she later realizes was something relatively unimportant, but she doesn’t get spots, or oily skin or gain weight or any of the things her classmates are still going through when puberty finally does strike.

Of course, she doesn’t get boobs, and she doesn’t get any taller either.

But she goes from stick thin to willowy — a dancer’s body, Bethany says with envy and she looks down at her own c-cup breasts. 

Her skin stays pale and perfect, and her face is suddenly all cheekbones. 

Her large eyes and full lips that she thought made her look cartoonish before suddenly seem to fit in her face in a way they never had, she thinks as she looks in the mirror. Of course her hair is still impossible. Orange and frizzy and impossible to control or do anything interesting with, she thinks as she pulls it back into a hair tie simply to get it out of the way.

Oh well, she thinks as she runs out the door, late for school as usual. 

Maybe some day that will change too.


	30. in which Sebastian adjusts to living with Annie Hawke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> takes place shortly after Annie moves in with Sebastian

It’s the only thing that has ever irritated Sebastian about Annie. 

He can deal with the fact that her dirty clothes never quite seem to land in the laundry hamper but always drape over the side, or lie on the floor next to it.

He accepts the fact that she talks while brushing her teeth, resulting in a fine spray of toothpaste across the mirror in the bathroom every morning and evening, or that she puts such an excessive amount of toothpaste on her toothbrush that there’s always a glob of it left in her sink.

He has no problem with occasionally stumbling over the shoes she leaves in the hallway, or the middle of the living room or on the stairs or pretty much anywhere she takes them off her feet.

As for his bookshelves, which used to be filled with pristine and perfect editions of his favorite books, he’s come to terms with the fact that he’s as likely these days to find a copy of “The Antivan Billionaire’s Love Child” next to “The Iliad” as he is to find the matching leatherbound edition of “The Odyssey”.

It’s when she tries to ‘help’ him in the kitchen that he realizes he can’t just smile and accept it. 

She uses the vegetable knife to cut up a whole chicken. 

She buys pre-chopped garlic packed in water.

She tries to make spaghetti with meat sauce and when she discovers there is no tomato sauce in the house she substitutes ketchup,

She puts salt on everything before she even tastes it.

The utensils are never put back where they belong. His spice cabinet looks as if a hurricane has gone through it. Every potholder has a scorch mark on it. 

She’s apparently incapable of wiping the stove or the counter, or wringing out the sponge.

Is it so difficult? He thinks as he throws yet another musty smelling, waterlogged sponge into the garbage. 

He’s not even going to think about how many spoons and forks have been mangled because she tosses them into the sink without looking and they fall into the disposal, which she turns on, again without looking. 

The final straw comes when she tries to pour cheese on top of the perfectly sautéed green beans purchased fresh from the farmer’s market that morning. Cheese from a jar. That she heated in the microwave.

He barely manages to whisk the pan out of the way in time. 

The cheese sauce goes all over the stove, and the burner and the noxious smell of burned cheese (or rather ‘cheese product’, whatever in Thedas that means) fills the air.

Annie stares at him with a perplexed frown as he curses as he turns the burner off and flings open the doors to the patio to let in some fresh air before stalking back to the sink and grabbing the sponge and cursing again as he burns himself on the still hot burner when he tries to clean it. He grabs hold of the counter and counts to ten, and then goes on to twenty.

“I can’t do this any more." He mutters. 

She has one heart stopping moment of panic that he wants to end their relationship before he turns to face her looking as grim as she’s ever seen him.

"You’re banned from the kitchen." He informs her flatly.

She blinks at him. “I’m banned?”

"Yes. You’re a menace. Nothing’s where it should be, Nothing is cleaned properly. Your taste in food is positively barbaric. I tried to excuse it. I thought I could teach you. I thought you could change." 

"So when you say banned….”

“No cooking. No helping. No touching my knives or my utensils. Or the stove. You can go into the pantry and the refrigerator as long as the foods you take out are ready to eat and require no preparation." 

She seems to consider what what he’d said. “What about the microwave?” She asks.

He thinks about it. She never puts a lid over anything she heats up and the food ends up splattering all over the inside of the machine, but he thinks he can cope with that. ”You can use the microwave..” He agrees.

"Okay.” She says. She doesn’t seem at all bothered by his proclamation.

“You’re all right with this?" He asks carefully.

"Sure. The others banned me from the kitchen two years ago. You really should have talked to them before you invited me to live with you." She takes one of the green beans from the pan and nibbles it as she leaves the kitchen. "Needs some salt."


	31. In which Annie has an attack of nerves while getting reading for the Summerday Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian has invited Annie to accompany him to the Chantry Foundation's Annual Summerday Ball and as she gets ready she begins to have second thoughts.
> 
> Takes place about two months after they meet.

Annie stared at her reflection in the full length mirror in one of Sebastian’s guestrooms trying to quell her rising panic.

Maker, this had been a horrible mistake.

The whole thing had been a series of horrible mistakes:

Accepting Sebastian’s invitation to attend the Foundation’s Summerday Ball.

Proudly refusing to let him buy her a dress for said ball.

Refusing to ask Leandra to buy her a dress, because she just knew that offer would have come with the understanding that Leandra would choose said dress and it would end up being one far better suited to Leandra’s taller and curvier frame.

Listening to Elegant and Isabela when they insisted that vintage designer evening gowns were all the rage among the elite these days and she’d fit right in.

Choosing the strapless silk chiffon gown in a pale peach color instead of going for something slinky and sophisticated.

Declining Elegant’s and Isabela’s offer to come along and help her get ready.

Void take it she was even doubting her hairstyle. She should have straightened it or put it up. Curlers and a great deal of product had insured the curls were smooth and perfect instead of the usual uncontrolled mess, but it was too much. No one in the fashion magazines or society pages wore their hair like this. Or a dress from almost sixty years a,go.

She should have let Sebastian buy her a dress. 

She should have just turned down the invitation.

She didn’t belong in this world. She should be down in Lowtown, wearing her Hanged Man t-shirt, serving beers to the Saturday night crowd. Not here in Hightown preparing to make a fool of herself.

Maybe if she put the shoes on.

She slipped the four inch heeled, gold metallic sandals that had been the one thing she’d splurged on.

Well it looked a little better with the hem at the proper length. 

She tried not to think of what Petrice and the other Hightown society ladies would be wearing.

She tried not to think of what her mother would say when she saw her wearing what she would undoubtedly consider a “used” dress. 

She jumped when someone knocked at the door.

“Anabel? The car will be here soon.” 

She took a deep breath and walked over to the door. She put her hand on the doorknob but couldn’t seem to turn it. “I don’t know if I can do this.” She muttered.

There was a moment’s hesitation. “Do what?” Sebastian asked.

Shit. Had she said that out loud?

“Anabel?” 

“Sorry. Just thinking out loud. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go and get a hamburger somewhere? I think it’d be much more fun. I know how to dress for that, and I’m much less likely to embarrass myself or you, and even if I do there will be far fewer cameras to commemorate it, and far fewer important people to be appalled by me.”

“I’m afraid it’s rather expected for me to attend as I’m hosting the event.” She could hear Sebastian’s smile in his voice, and just that sound made her smile as well.

“You could go without me.” She suggested hopefully. “There are some old movies on television that I’ve been meaning to watch for ages. I shouldn’t miss the opportunity.”

“Don’t you want to go to the ball?” He asked gently.

Fairy godmother and Prince Charming rolled into one.

“Yes…in theory.” She told him.

“Not in actuality?” He asked. 

When she spoke the words came out in a rush. “I don’t want you to regret having invited me. What if I’ve gotten it all wrong? What if I stick out like a sore thumb? What if I say something appalling, or do something appalling, or spill my soup down the front of my dress, or someone else’s dress?” When he didn’t answer right away she frowned at the closed door. “Sebastian?”

“If it helps, we aren’t actually serving soup.”

She couldn’t help a small laugh. “Well that’s reassuring, at least.” She sighed. “Do you think Cinderella thought these same sorts of things as she sat in her pumpkin coach heading up the castle driveway?”

“I’m not sure castles have driveways precisely, but very probably she did.”

“You see, I don’t even know that castles don’t have driveways. It’s hopeless. I’m hopeless.”

How had he not realized how nervous she’d been about this? “Did I mention that lately these balls and galas had started to bore me?” He said conversationally.

There was a pause. “Really?”

“Maker, yes. The same people, the same venues, the same music, the same conversations. They were starting to bore me to tears. I’d been absolutely dreading having to go to this one. I was actually thinking about that a couple of months ago as I was driving along the Wounded Coast Highway, wondering what I could possibly do to make this one in the slightest bit appealing and interesting. And then I saw something that changed all of that.”

“What?” She asked though she was fairly certain she knew the answer already.

“You. I saw you. I met you. And since then everything, even things I’d seen every day for the last decade, has seemed bright and new and exciting because I’m seeing it with you. Even the Summerday Ball seemed that way because I was attending it with you. You wouldn’t deprive me of that pleasure now, would you?”

Her mouth curved into a smile. “You are frighteningly smooth, you do realize that?”

“Might I come in? I’ve got a wrist corsage for you.”

She pulled back and looked at the closed door in surprise. When he’d first invited her to the ball she’d joked about how she hadn’t gone to her own prom back in Lothering, and how the ball would make up for it. She’d teased him about getting her the traditional floral wrist corsage. 

She’d never thought he’d take her seriously. Even she knew that one didn’t wear wrist corsages to society events. 

But he’d bought her one, because she’d told him she’d never had a prom or a corsage… 

She didn’t care how out of place or tacky it looked, she was going to this ball proudly wearing her wrist corsage. 

She opened the door. Sebastian was standing there looking impossibly handsome in a black, impeccably tailored tuxedo. He looked at her and his mouth actually fell open. 

“You’re stunning.” He told her. There was no other word for it. The gown was simple, but the color was a perfect foil for her bright hair and pale skin and the carefully draped fabric clung to every slender curve. It was a simple enough garment that you saw her beauty first, rather than that of the dress. 

A small pleased smile came over her face. “Truly?” 

He bent and kissed her. “Truly.” He said. “Close your eyes and put out your hand.”

She did as he’d asked. She frowned when she felt something heavy and metallic being put on her wrist. “That feels suspiciously weighty for flowers.” She informed him.

“I promise you, it’s flowers. Or rather a flower.” She heard a clasp being fastened. “Open your eyes and tell me if you like it.”

It was her turn for her mouth to fall open. It was a flower, he hadn’t been lying, a rose made of pave gemstones from brightly sparkling ones that could only be diamonds, to yellow ones to orangey-red ones, and leaves that were made of emeralds that continued around to form the rest of the bracelet. “Golly.” She said faintly. “That’s what I call a wrist corsage.” She held out her arm and turned it from side to side watching the light play off of what must have been hundreds of small gems.

“So, will you do me the very great honor of accompanying me to the Summerday Ball, Miss Anabel Hawke?” He asked, slipping his hands around her waist. 

She went up on her toes and kissed him. “I think I’d better. I’d hate to waste a perfectly good corsage.”


	32. In which Sebastian takes Annie for a belated birthday meal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After missing Annie's birthday because of a business trip, Sebastian makes it up to her by taking her to his favorite restaurant to celebrate.

Sebastian Vael had never been in a relationship. He realized that about a month after he started seeing Anabel Hawke. He’d had flings, and affairs, used women as props or accessories at social events, and for sexual gratification, and sometimes when he was younger just for amusement when he was bored or lonely, though those attempts had usually failed miserably.

It was only after he and Anabel had been together for a month, seeing each other whenever they could, talking for hours both in person and on the phone, after he’d realized that he had yet to be bored, or feel uncomfortable or awkward, that instead of needing time away from her he wanted to be with her still more, that he realized what he had been missing up until now. He was in a relationship with her and it was fantastic. Perfect. Something he never thought he needed but didn’t think he could do without now.

And then the nagging fear that he might do something to screw it up started. 

So he was careful, so careful to do everything right, to cater to her every whim, to every need, and every desire he thought she might have.

When he finally made love to her the longing and the fear both intensified. He was determined to make no mistakes, to keep her happy, to give her no reason to want to end things between them.

And less than two weeks after that he committed his first major blunder. 

“Your birthday is this weekend?” How could he not have known that? Surely it must have come up at some point in one of their many conversations.

“I told you that, didn’t I?” She’d met him for lunch in Hightown and Varric, who had been at the same restaurant, had stopped by their table and left with a “See you at your party, Hawke.” It was only after he’d asked her what he’d been talking about that Anabel had revealed the party was in fact a birthday party. For her.

“I’ve got that conference in Ostwick this weekend.” He reminded her.

She didn’t seem angry. “I know. It must be nice to travel as much as you do. I’ve only ever been in Ferelden and Kirkwall. You’ve travelled all over Thedas, haven’t you? I’d love to do that.”

“Yes.” He said only half hearing the question. “No one mentioned the party to me.” 

“I told them you were going out of town.”

“If there were any way of getting out of it I would, Anabel.”

“Sebastian, it’s fine.” She said with a laugh. “Honestly. My birthday was never that big a deal to begin with and after Da died we just sort of stopped acknowledging it.” At his puzzled look she sighed and explained. “He died on my birthday. No one really felt like celebrating that. It’s only since Isabela moved in with us that we started again, and I think she just wanted an excuse to have a party and get drunk.”

He reached across the table and took her hand in his, softly caressing her fingers. “I’m sorry. About your father, and that I won’t be here for your birthday. I’ll make it up to you when I get back, I promise.”

She smiled across the table at him, flashing that dimple he was growing so very fond of. “Why are you so nice to me?” She asked him. 

And he could answer with complete honesty. “Because you deserve it.”

It took him most of the afternoon to think of what he could do for her birthday and most of that evening and the next day to put the plan into action. 

He left for his trip to Ostwick. 

Annie had her party, texting him a photograph of the herself surrounded by the many vases of roses he had sent her captioned “Some lunatic bought every peach and pink rose in the Free Marches and sent them to my house. Every surface in the apartment is covered. We’ve nowhere to put the hummus. Anders can’t stop sneezing. Please advise.”

He arrived home three days later and announced that for her birthday he was going to take her to his favorite restaurant. She should wear something nice but not formal, and he’d be by to pick her up at five o’clock.

She’d hung up the phone with a smile, trying to ignore the small undercurrent of disappointment. Stop it. She ordered herself. He’s taking you to his favorite restaurant. He’s sharing something that’s special to him.

She didn’t want to admit that she’d thought he’d be a bit more creative or romantic. Stop it. She told herself again. 

The buzzer rang at exactly five and when she opened the door Sebastian was standing there in a light colored suit and a blue silk tie that perfectly matched his eyes. He bent and kissed her cheek. “You look beautiful.” 

She was wearing a dress of a pale greyish blue that had obviously taken its inspiration from a ballet costume. Made mostly of layers of sheer silk gauze, with a boned bodice and only touches of ribbon trim, it clung to her slender figure and was breathtaking in its simplicity. She’d paired it with some exquisitely high heeled, thinly strapped sandals. Her hair was parted in the middle and pulled back in to a heavy chignon at the base of her neck but some curls had already worked their way free of it and were framing her face. She was impossibly lovely. 

He put his hand at the small of her back and guided her to the curb where a large black limousine was waiting. She raised an eyebrow at him. “No taxis?” She asked.

He opened the door for her. “Not tonight.” 

When they were both in the car it pulled away from the curb, somehow managing to easily negotiate Lowtown’s narrow streets. Annie heard a click and looked over to see Sebastian had unbuckled his seat belt. He had an enigmatic smile on his face.

“I have something for you.” He told her. “Turn around and close your eyes.”

She gave him a suspicious smile but did as he asked. She felt him move behind her and his hands go to either side of her head. Was he putting a necklace on her? To her great surprise she felt a cloth being placed over her eyes and then carefully tied. “What…” she started to reach for it and Sebastian caught her hands, lowering them to her lap.

“Leave it.” He said softly at her ear.

She swallowed nervously. “I know we’ve talked about this sort of thing,” She said. “But I wasn’t really picturing it happening in the back of a moving limousine.” She turned to face him, which was pointless she realized, since she couldn’t see him with the blindfold on. “I thought you were taking me to dinner at your favorite restaurant.”

He took a moment to admire how she looked with the black silk tied over her eyes. It seemed to emphasize the paleness of her skin and the lushness of her lips, stained a soft pink tonight. He couldn’t resist leaning forward and kissing her lightly. “I am. I didn’t say that restaurant was in Kirkwall, however.”

A small smile curved her lips. “Where are you taking me?” She asked him.

It was a question she repeated several times during the drive, and it received no answer, so she started listening and trying to guess where they were. “We’re outside Kirkwall.” She said after about twenty minutes.

“Are we?” Said Sebastian, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

“We must be after driving this long. We’re going west.” She announced.

They were, but he was curious as to how she could now. “What makes you say that?” 

“There’s more traffic to the east because of the airport. And we’re driving into the sun which is in the west at this time of day.”

“Very good.” He told her. The limousine slowed and turned, pulling up to the small private airfield that was their destination. When he looked at her she was frowning.

“Are there private airports outside Kirkwall?” She asked.

“What makes you think that?”

“I thought I heard a plane.”

A small four seater had just landed. “Did you?” He said noncommittally. 

She smiled. “You aren’t even going to give me a hint, are you?”

“Not even a small one. Stay there, I’m coming around to get you.”

She heard the car door open and close, and Sebastian’s footprints on pavement. Well on something paved anyway, and then her door opened. He helped her out watching in amusement as she tilted her head and inhaled deeply. 

She turned to him triumphantly. “It is an airport. I can smell jet fuel.” 

He didn’t reply but took her by the hand and slipped an arm around her waist. She gripped his hand tightly and when he started walking, her steps were tentative.

“This is very disconcerting you know.” She told him.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I won’t let you fall.”

Her lips curved into a small smile at his words. She believed him.

Once the driver had put their suitcases on the plane, he led her to the stairs going up and guided her inside, bringing her to one of the plush leather chairs, and untying the blindfold. She blinked in the sudden light. She looked slowly around, taking in the luxurious interior and the glass of champagne he was holding out to her. “Is this your plane?” She asked. He’d never mentioned owning a plane but given his wealth she wouldn’t be surprised.

“For this weekend, yes.” He lifted his champagne flute. “Happy Birthday, Anabel.” He said clinking his glass lightly against hers. It let out that clear bell like tone that only the best crystal did.

“Thank you.” She said and they both took a sip. “Now where are you taking me?”

Her questions persisted for the two hour duration of the flight. She continued trying to guess where they were going based on the direction the plane was traveling and what she could see out of the windows until he’d had the steward pull the shades closed. 

Eventually the plane began its descent. 

“You might as well tell me now. It’s not like you can lead me through the airport to wherever you’re taking me blindfolded.” She said as they taxied to their gate. Did private planes go to gates? She suddenly wondered. In the movies they were always in private hangars.

“You don’t think so?” He said with such a gleam in his eyes that she blinked in surprise.

“Well, I won’t be able to go through customs with a blindfold on.”

He smiled at her. “There are certain advantages to being both a prince and obscenely wealthy, as you so frequently put it.” He informed her.

The steward opened the plane door, lowered the stairs and a customs official came into the plane. The steward handed him the passports, hers included, she realized, and he quickly signed and stamped gave them a quick bow before departing from the plane. When she turned to look at Sebastian he was holding the blindfold again. She rolled her eyes but turned so he could put it back on her. “You know I’m beginning to think you’re using this as an excuse to indulge in a particular fetish of yours.” She told him.

His fingers caressed the side of her neck and she shivered. “Perhaps.” He whispered at her ear. “But we can discuss that later tonight.”

“How did you even get my passport?” She asked him.

“Carver gave it to me.”

“You told my brother you were kidnapping me and he gave you my passport, just like that?” She asked.

“I believe Isabela and Merrill persuaded him that you would find it romantic.”

She smiled. “They might have been right.”

“They’re responsible for packing your suitcase as well, but if they forgot anything we can always purchase it here.”

She had a moment of worry, imagining what Isabela might have put in the suitcase but decided she could worry about that later. “How long are we staying?”

“Three days.” Sebastian told her. “Varric was happy to give you the time off.”

“Did everyone know about it?” She asked.

“I didn’t tell your mother.” 

“Thank the Maker for that. She’d be quite torn: appalled I’m running off for an illicit tryst in a foreign country with a man not my husband, but absolutely thrilled I’m running off with you. She’d worry though. She’d be constantly calling to make certain I was minding my manners.”

In no time at all they were in another limousine and about half an hour after that the limo stopped and Sebastian helped her out. 

“We’re near the ocean.” She could smell the salt air on the breeze and hear waves crashing against something. It sounded too loud to be a beach.

“Very near.” He agreed. He guided her inside a building, down another flight of stairs and outside again. She could hear people talking quietly and there was music playing softly, something romantic and a bit exotic. 

“Good Evening, Miguel.”

“Your Highness.” The man’s pleasure at seeing Sebastian was evident. “Welcome back. Good evening Miss Hawke. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

And he knew her name. She had to work not to start laughing. She would not embarrass Sebastian by bursting into uncontrollable giggles, but honestly it was ridiculous. Standing in an obviously exclusive restaurant, having a perfectly civilized conversation as if she wasn’t wearing a black silk blindfold. “It’s nice to meet you as well.” She told him graciously, hoping she was actually looking at him. Her mother would have been so proud.

“Your table is ready.” He informed them and with Sebastian’s hand still firmly on her waist guiding her he led them to the table. The ocean was louder here. Were they on the beach? She couldn’t quite decide.

Sebastian stopped suddenly and moved behind her, removing the blindfold.

She was almost afraid to look. How could this possibly live up to the buildup Sebastian had given it? She slowly opened her eyes. A delighted smile appeared on her face. “Oh Sebastian. It’s amazing.”

She’d never seen anything like it. They were in a cave in the side of a cliff– a grotto to be perfectly accurate – but inside that grotto was the most romantic, most perfect restaurant, with low lighting and romantic tables for two lined up against the railing. The sun was just going down over water that seemed to be blue and green at once and she suddenly realized where they were. 

She turned to him for confirmation and he smiled down at her. “Welcome to Antiva.” 

She gave a delighted squeal and flung herself into his arms, covering his face in kisses.

No one seemed to mind. Not Sebastian, not the maître d’, in fact people were smiling indulgently at them in spite of her obvious breach of etiquette. 

Wouldn’t Leandra have been surprised?


	33. In which Sebastian learns that Annie is throwing him a surprise party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian has never had the least desire to have a surprise party but when he learns Annie is planning one for his birthday he's determined that she not know that.
> 
> Takes place on their first Winter Solstice together.

“She is planning on throwing you a surprise party.” Fenris said abruptly.

Sebastian looked at him in surprise. “Annie?”

“Yes. She means well but perhaps doesn’t understand that such a thing does not appeal to everyone. I though you would want to know in advance.” 

They were sitting in Fenris’ basement apartment beneath the Hanged Man, drinking some rather astoundingly good Agreggio from Tevinter that Fenris had gotten a hold of. When Sebastian had first met the man, when he’d been doing the bodywork on the VW, he had no idea they’d become such close friends. He frequently came down here when Annie was bartending, when the university crowds at the Hanged Man became too much for him. He and Fenris discussed philosophy, religion, art, politics; they were comfortably at ease with each other. Of all of Annie’s friends Fenris was the one he truly counted as his own friend now, and he knew Fenris felt the same. 

As he had just proven now by revealing Annie’s plans. A surprise party. Maker’s breath. He’d never understood the appeal of them. The sneaking around, having a group of people that the person organizing it assumed were your friends leap out in the dark yelling loudly. It hadn’t even appealed to him when he was younger and it appealed even less now that he was approaching his thirty-fifth birthday.

“Where?” He asked.

“I believe at Mrs. Chantry’s home.” 

Sebastian frowned. “That can’t be right. Elthina always goes to Antiva for the holidays.”

Fenris gave a small shrug. “I may have gotten the details wrong. I thought you would want to prepare yourself. Annie is very excited by the idea. You wouldn’t want to disappoint her.” There was a hint of a warning in the statement. Fenris was as devoted to Annie as all of her friends were. But he was right. As much as Sebastian loathed the idea of a surprise party he didn’t want to let her down. He would play along and act surprised. It was a sweet thing for her to have wanted to do and she meant well. 

Two days later he was speaking to Elthina in her office when she announced she’d decided to forgo her trip to Antiva this year. 

People he worked with started asking not so subtle questions about what sort of things he liked: what kind of music, or if he’d ever read this book, or did he prefer port or brandy in the evenings. 

One evening when he was at the Hanged Man waiting for Anabel to finish her shift behind the bar he found himself suddenly cornered by Isabela. 

“She’s throwing you a surprise party. I know it’s probably not something you want in the slightest but she’s putting a lot of effort into it so you’d better act surprised and be absolutely thrilled with it, or you’ll have me to answer to.”

He’d assured her he would be. She given him a careful look and then kissed his cheek. “Good boy.”

The day before his birthday, a Sunday, he picked up Annie for brunch and chatted with her roommates while waiting for her to get ready. As they left the apartment Merrill called out happily “We’ll see you tomorrow night at the par…” before the others shushed her loudly.

Annie was giving him a worried look, but he pretended he hadn’t heard Merrill.

The cover story, as he’d taken to thinking of it, was that he and Annie were going to have a quiet dinner at his favorite Orlesian restaurant in Hightown. She was coming by the office at 6:30; they had a reservation at 7:00. He’d spent the day walking into rooms and having everyone go from hushed conversation, to sudden silence, and quickly to hearty false inquiries about work. 

He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised when at 6:25 there was a call from one of their managers regarding a project they’d been funding in Llomerryn. The man kept him on the phone for a good twenty minutes discussing what turned out not to be a problem at all. Annie had strolled in ten minutes into the call, and had left ten minutes later and returned again. She gave him a happy smile when he hung up the phone apologizing for keeping her waiting.

“It’s okay. I called and changed our reservation to 7:30, so we’ve got lots of time. So much time in fact that we could stop by Elthina’s and drop off her Solstice Night present, is that all right? I meant to drop it off on my way here but I was running late.” 

_Oh, she was good_. He smiled pleasantly. “Of course.” Fenris had been right. The party was at Elthina’s. 

They left the office, and he realized they were the only ones still there. Everyone else had left while he was on the phone, no doubt to go to the party. She must have arranged for the phone call from Llomerryn, he realized. _Oh, she was very good._

They walked the few blocks to Elthina’s apartment building, Annie chattering happily the whole way, as Sebastian mentally prepared himself for the “SURPRISE!” that would no doubt be screamed at him when they got to Elthina’s. 

George, the concierge, looked up as they walked into the building and grinned in a way Sebastian had never seen him grin before. “Good Evening Miss Hawke, Your Highness. Mrs. Chantry is expecting you. You can go right up.” 

Sebastian had to hide his smile. It was obvious George was in on the surprise as well. “Thank you George.” 

They rode up in the elevator in silence, and when the doors opened the lights were on. No one was in the living room.

“That’s strange.” Anabel said, feigning surprise. “Elthina?” She called out loudly. There was no answer. “Maybe she’s in the dining room. “ She said innocently.

“She must be.” He agreed, playing along. “Elthina?” 

The door to the dining room was closed and there wasn’t a sound coming from behind them. He braced himself for the shouting and opened the door. 

There wasn’t anyone there. He stared open-mouthed at the room. The large dining table was gone, replaced by a small intimate table for two. There were candles scattered throughout the room and flowers and dinner was laid out on the table. Soft jazz suddenly started to play and he turned to look at Anabel. 

She’d taken off her coat, revealing a simple sleeveless black cocktail dress and was just putting the remote for the CD player back on the sideboard. She walked up to him, and going up on tiptoes kissed him lightly on the mouth. “Surprise.” She said softly. She slipped his coat off his shoulders, and still trying to figure out exactly what was going on he let her. She placed it on the sideboard beside her own coat and returned to him. “Dance with me?” She asked him with a small tilt of her head as she put one hand on his shoulder, and slipped the other into his. 

He automatically put his free hand around her waist, only realizing then that the demure little black dress had a low plunging V in the back. His fingers traced along the soft bare skin he found there and he began to dance with her, swaying slowly back and forth. “There’s no surprise party?” He asked.

Her eyes were dancing merrily as she looked up at him. “Why, did you want one?” She teased.

“So Fenris’ warning? Isabela’s threats? Merrill’s slip up yesterday?”

“All part of my plot.” She admitted.

He found himself starting to smile. “Everyone at the office? The phone call from Llomerryn?” 

“Your employees were all too willing to play along and fool you. Eager even. You might want to look into that.”

“And Elthina?” He asked.

“Happily drinking sangria at her hotel in Antiva, I imagine.” She smiled up at him. “So did I surprise you?”

“Indeed. You might want to consider a career in espionage. I suspect you’d excel at it.” His brain was still trying to process it.

She just laughed. “I doubt everyone would be as easy to fool as you were. Did you really think I knew so little about you that I’d believe you’d enjoy a surprise party?” 

“I underestimated you. “ He admitted. “I should have known better.” 

“Mmmm.” She agreed. 

He stopped dancing suddenly, and moving both hands to her waist bent and kissed her until she was quite breathless. “Thank you.” He told her. “The best birthday present I could have gotten, the one I could never have imagined, was finding you and having you beside me to celebrate it.”

She just smiled up at him. “Happy Birthday, Sebastian.”

**Author's Note:**

> photos, references and Dragon Age related stuff can be found on my tumblr [A Happy Accident photo/style references](http://penthesilea1623.tumblr.com/search/a+happy+accident)


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